Deal With It
by jessicakaycobb
Summary: Hermione's boyfriend, Viktor Krum, is murdered by Death Eaters the summer before her 5th year. How will she cope with his death? ... What's more, someone witnessed his murder. Will he help her or hurt her with what he saw? DM/HG 5th year AU - ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

"Hermione, dear, it's time."

Hermione looked up from the blank piece of parchment in front of her to the door where her mother stood, looking rather apprehensive. _She must think I'm going to yell at her_, she thought.

Sighing, she stood up and crumpled the parchment into a neat ball, depositing it into the waste bin under her desk as she shouldered her bag. Her trunk and the rest of her school things were in the living room, waiting for her.

It wasn't so hard to understand why her mother was walking on eggshells around her lately. Hermione had, in fact, yelled at everyone the night before, telling them all to shove off and leave her alone for once, before locking herself in her room and refusing to come out.

Deciding it was best to pretend that the previous few weeks hadn't happened at all - and oh, how she wished they hadn't! - she wrapped her mother in a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I love you, Mum," she murmured. Her mother hugged her back with a fierceness the younger girl hadn't expected. She sniffed suspiciously and quickly took Hermione's bag from her before hurrying down the stairs to the living room.

Her father was standing in front of the fireplace when they entered the room. He had a rather similar expression to the one her mother wore moments ago, and Hermione sighed.

"Dad," she began.

"No worries, Pumpkin," he said gruffly, enveloping her into a tight hug. Hermione breathed in the scent of him, taking great comfort from her father's arms.

"Well, it looks like you're all set, dear…Trunk, bag, Crookshanks…all sorted?" As usual, her mother was bustling around, busying herself with getting things ready that had already been readied two hours ago. Hermione suspected it was because her mum wasn't really the sentimental type, and this parting carried a bit more emotion with it that the usual off-to-school goodbye.

After all, it wasn't every day your only daughter's boyfriend was murdered two weeks before the term began.

Hermione thought back to the day of the funeral before she could stop herself. She had barely known anyone there; it was mostly Viktor's family and friends from Durmstrang that attended. Harry and Ron hadn't even been allowed to come, as the family was trying to keep the press from infiltrating, and as such only a few select people outside the family had been allowed in.

She stopped short right there. If she started thinking about it again, she wouldn't be able to stop. She hadn't even cried since that fateful day when she'd heard the news; not even at the funeral did she shed a tear. Some would think her terribly hard-hearted, but she knew that if she cried that first tear, the tears wouldn't stop coming. So she had vowed not to cry again for Viktor. He wouldn't have liked to know she was blubbering her eyes out instead of carrying on living.

It was just so hard, though, to carry on living. Everything seemed so empty.

"Are you ready? Have you got the…Flute Powder?" her father asked uncertainly. Hermione laughed, possibly for the first time in the past three weeks.

"_Floo_ powder, Dad," she corrected him.

"Oh, well; that _does_ make more sense, then," he chuckled. "Have you got it?"

Hermione held up the small bag that Dumbledore had owled to her earlier that week. "All set."

"All right then, have a good term, dear," her mother said, patting Hermione on the shoulder.

"You can come home anytime you like, Pumpkin, you know that?" her dad said hopefully. Hermione knew he wasn't ready to see her go back just yet.

"I'll be back for Christmas," she replied firmly. "But I'll write every week, Dads, I promise."

She turned to the fireplace. Smiling, she thought of how Dumbledore had arranged for their house to be connected to the Floo Network for that afternoon, allowing her to Floo to his office. She had missed the Hogwarts Express because of the funeral; this thought caused her smile to disappear again.

Hermione opened the small bag and took a small handful of the shiny powder in her hand. Then she stepped into the fireplace, ensuring that her trunk and Crookshanks' carrier were wedged in with her. Then she waved to her parents with her free hand and threw the Floo Powder down, causing green flames to leap up around her. They felt pleasantly warm.

"Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!" she said clearly, and immediately the sight of her waving parents was gone in a blur as she began to spin rapidly in the grate. She kept her elbows tucked in close to her sides and her eyes closed, remembering Harry telling her about traveling this way. Soon she felt herself slowing down and she opened her eyes just in time to see Dumbledore's smiling face as he grabbed her arm to steady her as she stumbled out of the fireplace.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger?" he asked, helping her to brush the soot out of her hair, his eyes twinkling. "I trust you had an enjoyable journey?"

Hermione just coughed in reply.

"Excellent, excellent," Dumbledore replied, levitating her trunk and Crookshanks out of the grate and over by his desk. "If I could have a quick word with you before I send you off to your dormitory?" he added, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. Hermione sat down, still sputtering, and waited. She knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

"Miss Granger," he continued, sitting down in his chair behind his desk and folding his long slender hands in front of him. "I can't begin to imagine what you've been through these past few weeks, but I assure you, I can sympathize with losing someone you love. If you ever need someone to talk to, just know that I am here, and so are the other faculty," he finished, spreading his arms wide. Hermione nodded, but in reality, she felt like she might be sick if she didn't get out of there immediately. She didn't want to talk about it.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, hoping her tone sounded genuine. Dumbledore just smiled and gestured to the door, and she knew she was free to go.

"You may leave your things, if you like, and I'll have someone bring them up later," he said as she rose from her seat. Hermione nodded, taking her bag and heading for the door. When she reached the hallway, she broke into a run, and she didn't stop until she reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Too late she remembered she didn't know the new password.

"Can't you just let me in?" she asked helplessly. The Fat Lady just shook her head.

"If I let _you_ in, I'd have to start letting _anyone_ in," she replied haughtily.

"Oooh, well why don't you just go…get…painted!" Hermione said in a huff, stalking off to the Great Hall instead, leaving the Fat Lady in shocked silence behind her.

She hadn't really wanted to go to the Great Hall; she knew it was dinnertime and most of the students would be there. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her friends so much as she didn't want to see the looks of pity on their faces when she saw them.

Her fears weren't unfounded, for as soon as she walked in, the buzz of chatter that usually filled the Great Hall stopped abruptly for a moment, then started up again so quickly that one wouldn't have noticed anything unusual if they hadn't been paying close attention. She could feel it, though. The stares of almost every pair of eyes were on her as she crossed to the Gryffindor table.

Deciding it was best to just pretend everything was normal, she sat down between Ron and Harry and started ladling peas onto her plate before anyone could say anything.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, startled by her sudden appearance. Apparently, he was the one person who hadn't seen her walk in. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," she said calmly. "How was your holiday, Harry?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Harry said, his voice unsure and apprehensive. Hermione sighed and dropped the ladle back into the bowl of peas and glared around at everyone at the table.

"If you're all quite through with acting like a group of frightened first-years, I'd like to go on with normal life. Yes, something horrible has happened, but it doesn't mean that you have to handle me with kid gloves. I'm still me."

The atmosphere lightened a bit, and Hermione went back to serving herself dinner. Harry spoke first.

"We know, Hermione," he said gently, so gently that it caused her to look up at him full in the face. His green eyes were full of understanding. Then Hermione remembered the end of last year, and how Harry had been through this when he saw Cedric murdered.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, suddenly studying her plate as if it were a complicated Arithmancy problem.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he replied, putting an arm around her comfortingly. Ron cleared his throat.

"We're here for ya, Hermione," he said gruffly, patting her shoulder in an awkward sort of way that was still much appreciated by Hermione. Suddenly, she was hugging first Harry, then Ron, the latter of the two seeming shocked yet pleased by her show of affection. His face and neck turned a bright red to match his Gryffindor Prefect's badge.

Hermione didn't notice, but instead tucked into her dinner with renewed enthusiasm.

Later, in her dormitory, Lavender Brown, who was never known for having extreme tact, was busy questioning Hermione about her summer holidays.

"So how did it happen?" she asked in a hushed voice. Hermione sighed and decided she had better just get it over with, otherwise the other girl wasn't going to leave her alone.

"He was killed by a—" she stopped short, realizing she'd almost said _Death Eater_. She cast around for a moment, and then continued, "—by a dark wizard during a duel." There. That wasn't a lie. And at least now she wouldn't have to hear Lavender's opinion on Voldemort's return. The other girl gasped.

"So it's true then? My mum heard from one of her friends that it was something like that," she was silent for a moment, but it didn't last. "You were dating him, right?"

Hermione sighed again. "Yes, Lavender, we were dating. We kept in touch after he went back home, and I even went to visit him over the summer hols be—before…" she couldn't finish. Lavender made a sound that was probably supposed to be sympathetic. It wasn't. It annoyed Hermione to no end. She pulled on her pajamas and climbed into bed. She wished the silly girl would get the message and shut up already and let her get some peace.

"I don't know how you were able to eat at dinner," Lavender went on, successfully crushing Hermione's hopes of getting to bed early. Hermione leaned on her elbow and stared at Lavender incredulously.

"What do you mean?"

"If something like that had happened to me, I wouldn't be able to eat a bite, I'm sure of it," Lavender said emphatically. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I don't see any reason to starve myself, Lavender. It won't bring Viktor back." And with that, she pulled the curtains of her bed closed with such a force that even Lavender Brown understood that their conversation was over.

The next day was better. Sort of. Hermione discovered herself slightly behind in her schoolwork because she'd missed a full week of classes. She couldn't have that.

As she had a free afternoon, she practically sprinted to the library to do some extra studying. Almost every table was full, but that wasn't very unusual. She skirted around the edge of the library and back to a secluded table hidden in the stacks, her favorite one. But as she turned the corner around the last bookshelf, she was surprised to see it was already occupied.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled, turning away quickly.

"Whatever, Granger, I was just leaving," Malfoy drawled, gathering his things together quickly and standing. He nodded his head toward the now-empty table. "All yours."

Then he was gone.

Hermione's head was reeling. Had Draco Malfoy just been _civil_ to her? No comment about her parentage? No snide remark about her being dirty and beneath him? What the hell was that all about?

She decided not to think about it right now. All she wanted to think about was Transfiguration and Arithmancy and Charms. And so she did.

When Hermione returned to the common room that night, after reciting the new password haughtily to the Fat Lady (_mimbulus mimbltonia_), she found Harry and Ron huddled beside the fire, talking animatedly in hushed tones.

"Oi! Hermione!" Ron called to her as she scrambled through the portrait hole. She made her way across the room and settled into her favorite squishy armchair, dropping her bag on the floor at her side.

"I'm not even going to ask how this armchair happens to be vacant, Ronald, I'm just going to assume that you did not just physically remove a first year from it," she said as she leaned back and closed her eyes. Even for her, the studying session she'd just put herself through in the library was a tiring one.

Ron turned slightly pink, but said nothing. Harry spoke next.

"Hermione, something's going on at Hogwarts."

Hermione sighed. "When is something _not_ going on at Hogwarts?"

"I'm serious. You missed quite a bit while—" Harry stopped abruptly and cast his eyes down immediately. Hermione groaned.

"It's _okay_, Harry," she said impatiently. "Well, it isn't okay, but I told you last night at dinner that you don't have to treat me differently be--because of what's happened," she finished, her voice only faltering slightly during her speech. Harry looked relieved.

"All right," he continued. "Well, for starters, you know all about the hearing at the Ministry," Hermione nodded, "but d'you remember me saying something about a witch that looked like a toad? The one who was determined not to believe me?"

"Yes," she answered simply, urging him to continue.

"She's here at Hogwarts," Harry finished grandly. "She had this whole speech at the start of term feast…something about progress being prohibited or something…But that's not all. She's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, as well."

"And she's _evil_, Hermione," Ron interjected. Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"She's going around trying to convince everyone that I'm mad, and Voldemort," Ron winced noticeably, "hasn't returned; pretty much the same rubbish they're printing in the _Prophet_, not to mention whatever else Fudge is telling her to say," he finished.

Hermione's brain was whirring so fast it was becoming difficult for her to sit still.

"What does Dumbledore say?"

"Dunno, really," Ron supplied. "He hasn't said anything against her yet, but I'm sure he can't like her. She's _evil_," he repeated.

"McGonagall doesn't like her, though," Harry said hopefully. "She told me to watch out for her…I don't think she trusts her."

"Who would?" Ron added. Then he hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you going to tell her?"

Harry shook his head almost imperceptibly. Hermione's ears perked up, and she glanced back and forth between the two boys, trying to read their expressions. Ron looked worried, but resigned, and Harry's face was completely unreadable. She sighed.

"Well, if you don't want to tell me, then you don't have to," she said, trying not to sound irritable. "But as for the rest of what you said, it's obvious that Ministry is trying to interfere at Hogwarts, and we'll have to keep a sharp eye on this woman…what was her name again?"

"Umbridge," Harry replied in monotone, and Ron shuddered, much the way he did when Voldemort's name was mentioned. If Hermione hadn't been so annoyed, she would have laughed.

Later, in her dormitory, she was once again sequestered in her four poster with the curtains drawn so she wouldn't have to deal with Lavender. She had her wand lit and a book open on her lap, trying to concentrate on the Charms theory she was reading, but she just couldn't.

Finally, she shut the book with a snap and leaned back onto her pillows. Hot tears were forming at the back of her eyes as her mind reeled in several directions all at once.

She was behind in her schoolwork. The Ministry had sent some horrible woman to interfere at Hogwarts. Malfoy was inexplicably being civil to her, which wasn't exactly horrible, just disconcerting. Voldemort was out there somewhere, planning his next move. And on top of it all, Viktor…

_No_, Hermione thought defiantly, stopping her train of thought. _I mustn't cry._

She deliberately cleared her mind and emptied her head of everything, filling it instead with the twelve uses of dragon blood, and soon she had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N : So here it is, folks! Thank you to everyone who added me to their favorite stories and favorite authors, and a special thanks to those who added me to their C2's! You guys are great, you know that? I hope you enjoy this new story, which promises to be a bit more angsty than my previous fics. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : Well, crap. Last chapter, I forgot to thank my betas! I suck! So here goes.**

**Thank you Jack! I love you! You're great, and I know I'm perfect, but I still need you! :Draco-like smirk: And thank you "other" Jessica! You rock so hard. You give plot-beta's everywhere a good name. This fic would probably suck eggs if not for you guys. :tears up: :sniff: I love you! (And then we hug, right Jack?)**

**And I think I told a couple of you I was going to update Tuesday (tomorrow), but as some of you know, I'm the most impatient person in the world and I find it difficult to wait to update my stories. So here we are. Just so there's no confusion. I said I was going to update tomorrow. I'm updating today. Sue me, if you like. :D**

* * *

The previous summer had done quite a bit to change Draco's opinion of his father.

As a child, he had feared and respected the older man. Every young boy idolizes his father. Lucius had trained Draco to be himself in miniature, and he had every hope that his son and heir would one day follow in his footsteps.

He had nearly succeeded.

However, at the beginning of the summer following Draco's fourth year at Hogwarts, Lucius had decided his son was no longer a boy, and should no longer be treated as such. He began to really educate him in the noble art of serving the Dark Lord.

The more Draco learned about He Who Must Not Be Named, the less the cause his father was fighting so hard for appealed to him. It wasn't so much the idea that purebloods were superior; that much had been plain to Draco since birth. The part that left a bad taste in his mouth was the _servitude_, always being second-class under the Dark Lord and doing his bidding, no matter how twisted and undesirable the task may be. It was do as Master says, or be Avada Kedavra'ed until you are dead. No third option.

Besides, it was utterly ridiculous how they were on and on about weeding out the Muggleborns and blood traitors. Even if they succeeded in their quest, all would still be under the rule of the Dark Lord anyway. No one would ever be free. Not even his most "trusted servants" would have any real power.

So Draco began to tune his father out whenever he started in on the subject. It was far too dangerous to openly rebel against Lucius, but he quietly decided he would never serve his father's Master. The only master he would ever serve was himself. He would never be the Dark Lord's lapdog.

One night towards the end of Draco's summer holidays, Lucius came home utterly excited. He had been given a very important mission, he confided in Draco, and he was to bring his son along for a little tutorial. Draco wasn't exactly thrilled, but he didn't have much of a choice.

Lucius had taken Draco by Side-Along Apparition to a dark wooded area where they stood quietly for a while and waited. Draco began to wonder what they were doing, and was about to open his mouth to ask his father when he heard voices.

"…this way, Viktor," came the simpering voice of a young witch. Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as the voice came closer and closer to where Draco and Lucius were hidden. Draco's heart was pounding in his chest.

"Vat is it you want me to see, anyvay?" a gruff voice asked, and Draco recognized it at once as the voice of Viktor Krum, the professional Quidditch player and the Durmstrang champion from last year. Suddenly the young witch and Krum burst into view, the girl practically pulling him through the underbrush of the forest.

"There's this really lovely waterfall, just up here," the girl, who was English from the sound of her voice, tugged at Krum's arm to get him to follow her, but he growled and pulled her into a tight embrace instead, kissing her enthusiastically.

Draco smirked. He knew from the rumor mill at Hogwarts that Krum was supposed to be dating Hermione Granger, but from this little display, either that was over or he just didn't care. Something about that amused Draco and he almost laughed. Served that stuffy little know-it-all right.

Before Draco could even form another thought about Granger finally getting her come-uppance, his father was raising his wand at the couple. Draco gasped, and the girl broke the kiss and looked over Krum's shoulder to where Lucius stood, wand raised.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Lucius bellowed, and there was a rush and a flash of green light and the girl was dead, lying on the ground at Krum's feet. Krum roared and drew his wand, firing curses at Lucius, and Draco ducked and was narrowly missed by several spells he didn't recognize. He dived behind a large boulder and listened, his breath coming hard, not daring to stick his valuable neck out into this fight that wasn't his.

A moment passed, both men shouting curses and dueling fiercely from the other side of Draco's boulder. Then he heard it again. The Killing Curse.

"_Avada Kedavra!_ _Avada Kedavra!_" Apparently Krum was excellent at dodging curses, for Lucius kept screaming it over and over; but finally the curse struck home and Draco heard the body fall to the forest floor.

The next thing he knew he was being dragged up by the collar of his robes and his father was Apparating them back to the Manor.

"You fool! You could have ruined everything, you insufferable coward, hiding behind a rock like a frightened little girl!" Lucius was yelling as soon as the air filled their lungs again. Draco looked round. They were standing on the front lawn, just outside the Apparition wards. He came back to himself and snatched his arm away from his father's grasp.

"Talking of cowards! You were going to curse him from behind!" Draco didn't know where exactly the words were coming from, for usually he had no problem with cursing people when their backs were turned. But he was furious with Lucius for being so quick to risk Draco's life, and his stomach was clenching uncomfortably as though he might be sick. He'd never witnessed the Killing Curse up close before.

"Just be happy you _didn't_ sabotage that task, Draco," Lucius said softly, straightening his robes and seeming to come back to himself once again. "The Dark Lord would not have been pleased with you for almost destroying our chances of taking out the newest member of the Order of the Phoenix. As it stands, I will withhold that nasty bit of information from our Master," he added imperiously, sweeping up towards the Manor in a flutter of dark robes.

_Krum was in that stupid Order thing?_ Draco remembered hearing about Dumbledore's little "club" earlier in the summer when his education began. They were the enemy. Of course it made sense to take Krum out immediately; he would have to have been powerful and talented to have been his school's champion for the Triwizard Cup.

But something about bearing witness to his murder and the murder of the girl, whether she had been innocent or not, didn't sit well in Draco's stomach. As soon as he made it to his private quarters he promptly threw up. A _Scourgify_ charm vanished the evidence of his weakness and he steeled his nerves and told himself it didn't matter anyway.

For even though Draco knew he wasn't on his father's side in this upcoming war, he knew with equal certainty that he wasn't on Potter's side, either.

* * *

The next two weeks before term started were a blur. The news of Krum's death was widespread, and although no one knew who it was that killed him, they knew it had been the forbidden Killing Curse that had done the deed, so the rumors flew.

No one was willing to admit the Dark Lord had returned to power, but the evidence was plain that a dark wizard had offed the promising young Quidditch player, and for apparently no reason. The girl, who had not been anyone of real importance, wasn't even mentioned in most of the articles that were written in the wake of Krum's murder.

Draco felt miserable. He hid his uneasy feelings on the matter from his father expertly well; when growing up with Lucius Malfoy for a father, you learned not to show your feelings, starting from a young age.

The first week back at Hogwarts passed without event, unless you call having a giant toad for a teacher an event. Nevertheless, Draco noticed that Hermione was conspicuously absent for the first week of term. He wondered if she had gotten so depressed that she actually had done something stupid and hurt herself.

He didn't care if she had. One less Mudblood to deal with, after all.

Then he saw her come into the Great Hall. She looked pale and harried, with deep purple marks under her eyes from lack of sleep, he supposed. Something jolted in his stomach. He found himself almost pitying her. Almost.

The next afternoon in the library, he had been finishing up an essay for Snape when she rounded the corner and discovered him at his secret table. The table far back in the stacks was best suited to him because he really didn't want to be seen poring over books in the library like some Ravenclaw. It also provided an excellent place to snog the various girls in his year, as it was quite secluded.

And yet here was Granger, looking surprised and embarrassed to see him, a pretty blush appearing on her cheeks as she mumbled something and turned away. Draco, angry and confused with himself for thinking her blushing was pretty, had quickly risen and gathered his things for a quick escape.

Something was definitely wrong with him.

Draco paced his dorm room that night long after the others had gone to sleep. He decided that he needed to get a grip on himself. Just because he wasn't going to fight for the "Dark Side" didn't mean that he had to go all mushy gushy teddy bear Draco either. He had an image to uphold, after all.

He decided that Granger was a Mudblood after all, and that his displays of emotion towards her - the pity he'd felt, the thing in the library, whatever the hell that was about - were all uncalled for and therefore should not be repeated. Ever.

With this thought firmly implanted in his brain, he climbed into his bed and fell asleep instantly for the first time in three weeks.

* * *

The next morning Draco went down to breakfast amid much chatter from the students that filled the Great Hall. As he moved to sit at his usual place at the Slytherin table, he caught snatches of conversation.

"…made High Inquisitor. I just read…"

"…What in the bloody hell is that, anyway? Some kind of…"

"…Umbridge. Yeah, I know, she's so off, but she hates that Potter kid, so…"

Draco's curiosity was piqued, but he didn't like to appear that he didn't know everything that was going on, so he remained silent as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. It wasn't long before a tall blonde girl was slipping onto the bench beside him. _Right on cue_, he thought dryly.

"Draco, have you heard the news?" the girl asked excitedly, positioning herself so she was directly next to him and their thighs were touching slightly. The subtle scent of roses drifted up to Draco's nose as she tossed her long hair over her shoulder and turned her heart-shaped face up to him.

"I'd never deny you the pleasure of telling me a juicy bit of gossip, love," he drawled, winking rakishly and resting a hand on her leg just above her knee. His actions had the desired result and Pansy blushed gracefully. Although, Draco couldn't help thinking, it didn't become her in quite the same way it did with Granger. Angry with himself for thinking this thought, he quickly dropped a kiss on Pansy's cheek, just to show himself that he could do _much_ better than that filthy-blooded goody two-shoes.

"Draco! What's gotten into you today?" Pansy said breathlessly, and Draco immediately regretted kissing her. She was going to get the wrong idea and start hanging all over him again, and he couldn't endure that kind of thing. It was suffocating. So he gave Pansy a half-smile, turned to his empty breakfast plate, and began to fill it.

He could almost hear her pouting behind him as he tossed over his shoulder, "So did you have something to tell me or not?"

"Hmph," Pansy said sullenly from beside him. "Perhaps I won't tell you after all." But Draco knew she would. If there was one thing about Pansy Parkinson he knew, it was that she couldn't resist spreading a rumor.

"All right then," Draco replied casually, pretending not to care. He could practically hear the inner struggle Pansy was having trying to decide if it was worth it to not tell him her news. _Five, four, three, two…_

"Oh, fine then," Pansy sighed heavily. _Bingo, _Draco smirked. Then he turned to the pretty girl with a cocky lopsided grin and waited. She glared at him for a moment, then smiled. "I can't keep anything from you, you know that?"

Draco inclined his head to say, _Of course not, who could blame you?_

"Professor Umbridge has been made Hogwart's High Inquisitor," Pansy rushed out, all in one breath. Draco lifted an elegant eyebrow.

"What's that?"

"Oh, it means that she gets to inspect the other teachers, and if they aren't up to her standards, then she can _fire_ them! Imagine! First she can get rid of that great oaf Hagrid, ugh, I can't _stand_ him, and then she can…" Pansy continued on for a few more minutes in that vein, but Draco was no longer listening.

_Hmm,_ he thought. _This should be interesting._

* * *

Draco was rather looking forward to seeing some of his teachers evaluated by Umbridge, but it wasn't in the cards for that day. Double Potions with the Gryffindorks was.

As much as Draco hated Potter and his band of do-gooders, he always rather enjoyed having Potions with them, as Snape hated them all just as much, probably more.

Entering the dungeon classroom, Draco noticed that Granger was already there, busying herself with setting up her cauldron and Potions supplies. Draco brushed past her and deliberately tipped her bowl of beetle eyes onto the cold stone floor, where they scattered hopelessly. Hermione gasped and dropped to her knees to gather them up.

"_Evanesco!_" Snape's cold voice rang through the cavernous room and echoed off the walls, making it even more impressive. The beetle eyes vanished with a wave of his wand. "Get _up_, for heaven's sake, Miss Granger, and ten points from Gryffindor for being so graceless in the first place," he sneered as he swept past her to his desk.

Granger flushed crimson, and Draco smirked and thought smugly that her blush wasn't so pretty this time. In another instant her eyes flashed up at him and she shot him a piercing glare that wiped the smirk right off his face and made his mouth suddenly very dry. Then she was turning her nose up and seating herself upon the bench behind her table as if it were a throne.

_Hmph, stupid girl; who does she think she is, anyway?_ Draco seethed. He was angry again and he didn't even know why this time. He had won, after all. But why wasn't she more upset?

The rest of the class passed uneventfully. Snape passed back their essays on moonstone and its uses in potion-making, and Draco was pleased to have received an E for Exceeds Expectations. Next, they prepared Strengthening Solutions, and he managed to do a pretty fair job of his; it was the right color, anyway. He glanced over at Granger.

Her hair was falling into her face, which was pink-tinted and slightly damp from the heat coming off the cauldron. She bit her lip and added the final ingredient to the green liquid simmering before her. The potion immediately turned a clear turquoise and she smiled. Draco suddenly felt a bit too warm and decided he'd better put out the fire under his cauldron.

That done, he dipped a flask into his potion, filled it, and then walked to Snape's desk as he sealed it with a flick of his wand.

"Here you are, Professor," he drawled. Snape cocked a greasy eyebrow at him and gestured for him to place his flask on the desk. Draco saw him write a large "E" on the parchment in front of him, and he suddenly felt much better. At least he wasn't useless at Potions like most of his year.

Smirking, he packed up his things in his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He headed out the door and to the Great Hall for lunch, firmly pushing any further thoughts of Hermione Granger out of his mind.

* * *

**A/N 2 : Um, so I have a question for you guys. Last story I did previews for the next chapter in this space down here. Would you like for me to do that with this story, too? Or are chapter previews evil? By the way, you can only answer my question in a review if you say something about the chapter as well. I will not take into consideration those reviews that say "Chapter previews suck!" or "Yes, do chapter previews," if they don't say something about the story as well. Just so you know. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N : So. I said I was updating Thursday. And as you can see, it's Tuesday. In my denfese, I've been stuck in the house for the past two days and it's driving me CRAZY that I've got so much of this story written and so little of it posted. So here I am. I do hope that you guys don't get tired of this story before it's even had a chance to begin, simply because I'm updating too often! :D**

**And as usual, thank you to my betas, Jack and Jessica. Aww, that rhymes! Not really, but it's alliteration, and I love it. Thank you really, though, guys. ;)**

* * *

Hermione was so angry she forgot to talk about O.W.L.s during lunch after the incident with Malfoy in Potions. She had been stupid to think he would actually start being nice to her. Stupid!

Of course he had done it on purpose. She had seen his smirk when Snape took points from Gryffindor.

That moment in the library must have been a fluke, or a joke, or – or something! Oh, how she wished she could get her hands around his slimy neck. The horrible, intolerable, insufferable _git_. She hated him with renewed vigor.

No one bothered to talk to her during lunch, and that suited her just fine. She huffed off to Arithmancy before anyone else had even finished eating and arrived twenty minutes early. At least she wouldn't have to worry about seeing Malfoy in _this_ class. This thought cheered her just a bit, and she pulled out her books and settled in for some extra studying.

Slowly her anger abated, and she began to wonder why she had gotten so angry in the first place. After all, it was only Malfoy. He had made it his goal in life to make Harry, and by extension, herself, miserable. He was only being a git. It wasn't that unusual, really.

Her reaction _was_. Especially in the past year, she had become extremely tolerant of Malfoy's antics. After all, he was essentially harmless. He was all hot air.

By the time the professor came in to begin the lesson, Hermione had reasoned that she had been under so much stress lately that Malfoy's trick was merely the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. That was the reason she got so angry.

Satisfied, she set to work.

* * *

"Harry! I can't _believe_ you!" Hermione spat as they left Defense Against the Dark Arts later that afternoon. "I _told_ you not to get involved!"

"I couldn't just let her get away with taking points from you for having an opinion!" Harry yelled back. Umbridge had taken points from Gryffindor for Hermione's disagreeing with the text, the watered down _Defensive Magical Theory_. Harry, incensed, had talked back to Umbridge, earning him another week's worth of detentions.

"Yes, well, you should really learn to keep a stronger hold on your temper, Harry," Hermione sniffed, dropping her bag on the floor and seating herself at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

"_My_ temper? _You _didn't have to 'disagree with Mr. Slinkard,' you know," Harry retorted as he practically threw his bag under the table and sat down with such force he nearly turned the bench over. Hermione sighed.

"There are better ways of rebelling than back-sassing a dangerous teacher," she mumbled.

"I'm not going to apologize for getting my hand sliced open every night, if that's what you're waiting for," Harry grumbled from across the table. Hermione glanced up at him. He had finally broken down at breakfast that morning and told her about the detentions with Umbridge. The woman was seriously deranged, making him write lines with his own blood.

"Harry, I –" she began.

"Just – don't," Harry said weakly, holding up a hand to stop her. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's talk about something that's not depressing."

They were silent for a minute. Then Ron, who had been quiet for the entire fight between Hermione and Harry, started laughing.

Hermione looked round at him quickly, then she couldn't help but laugh, too. Harry joined in a moment later, and soon they were all three shrieking with laughter so loud that it earned them a glare from McGonagall at the Teacher's Table.

"I guess there's not much that's going on right now that _isn't_ depressing," Harry gasped a few minutes later. Hermione giggled and tried to catch her breath. Ron speared a piece of chicken on the end of his fork and brought it over to his plate, still chuckling.

By the end of the next day, Hermione had had quite enough of Umbridge. The woman had evaluated two of their classes, and had managed to give Harry another detention and insult all the Gryffindors in one fell swoop during Care of Magical Creatures. She was out of control, and they weren't learning anything in their DADA classes that would help them against the very real dangers that she was so vehemently denying. Something had to be done.

But what? Hermione had an inkling of an idea. They needed to learn how to defend themselves or they wouldn't stand a chance if they were ever to be attacked. The chances of any of them being attacked were rising by the minute; every minute that passed was another one Voldemort was using out there to plan his return to full power.

The time had passed for theory and books. They needed someone who had _been_ there, who could teach them properly. She resolved to talk to Ron about it after dinner and then he could help her approach Harry about it. After all, when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry was the most logical choice for a teacher.

At dinner that night, Hermione was almost herself again. That is, until dessert was served. Right there in front of her plate was a bowl of red currant jelly.

No one else would have thought anything of it; it was an ordinary bowl filled with quite ordinary jelly, and the casual observer would have brushed it off as just another dessert.

But Hermione knew that Viktor had loved it. It was his favorite dessert; she remembered eating it with him when she had visited him over the summer holidays at his parents' house.

Someone, she couldn't have told you later who it was, offered her some, but Hermione shook her head firmly. She loved it, too, but she didn't think she deserved to eat it when Viktor couldn't. So she said no, and excused herself soon afterwards to the Common Room in Gryffindor Tower, where she buried herself in homework until Ron came stumbling through the portrait hole forty-five minutes later.

"Hermione! I've been looking everywhere for you!" he said breathlessly as he flopped into the armchair next to Hermione's. She raised her eyebrow at him. "Okay, so maybe I checked the library after dinner," he added sheepishly.

"Well, it's a good thing you finally found me," she said sarcastically as she closed her book. "I have something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?"

"Help me convince Harry to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"What?" Ron repeated.

"Do you have some sort of buildup in your ears?" Hermione asked seriously. Ron blinked, and Hermione laughed, causing Ron to turn pink around his aforementioned ears.

"Are you serious, Hermione?"

"If you do have buildup in your ears, that's a pretty serious thing, Ronald."

"Hermione! I was talking about getting Harry to teach us."

"I know. And yes, I'm serious. We're never going to learn anything useful in that awful woman's classes," she finished. Ron looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I wonder if he'll go for it," he mused.

They discussed the matter further as they waited for Harry to finish his detention, and by the time he finally made it back to the Common Room after midnight, they had come to an agreement.

Harry wasn't thrilled with the idea. He'd actually gotten mad and yelled at her and Ron, but Hermione wasn't surprised, really. She had known that he wouldn't go into this easily. She just hoped that he would change his mind, for all their sakes.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Hermione found herself acting rather strangely. It all started that day with the red currant jelly, but one day she found herself unwilling to eat mashed potatoes because she remembered Viktor remarking his fondness for them, and the next it was shepherd's pie or wild rice.

What started as a silly quirk began to become part of her consciousness, and it seemed only right to withhold from certain foods because she could not share them with Viktor. It was a way to grieve him; a way to keep him alive. If she thought about him and didn't eat certain things in honor of him, it was like he was there with her, if only in spirit.

She really didn't give it too much thought; after all, she still ate, and ate plenty, so there was nothing to worry about. Her friends didn't even give her a second glance when she avoided certain foods. It wasn't a big deal, of course.

Meanwhile, she had bigger things to worry about.

Harry had finally agreed to their plan, and they had already had quite a few people sign up to take lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were now quite busy trying to find a suitable place to hold meetings, and Hermione was spending most of her extra time helping make plans and think of ways to get around Umbridge and Filch's ever-watchful eyes.

Besides that, there was the issue of Malfoy. He seemed to be taking extra time out of his busy schedule to torment Hermione; it seemed like every time she turned around he was there with a snide word or ten points from Gryffindor for "having wild hair." It was almost enough to make her crazy.

Finally, she'd had enough.

It started out a very peaceful afternoon in the library. Hermione had retreated to her favorite table and had spread out all her notes and books; she was happily engrossed in her Arithmancy homework and didn't even notice him until he spoke.

"Studying, are you?" Malfoy drawled, and Hermione's head jerked up immediately. He was leaning against the bookcase and examining his fingernails, apparently quite at his ease. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Come to have a laugh at me, the little Gryffindor know-it-all, have you, Malfoy? Well please get on with it and leave me alone."

He smirked, and sauntered up to the table, resting his hands on the edge and leaning low over the table. He was so close she could smell his cologne. _Which is probably more expensive than my house,_ she thought bitterly.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, Malfoy," she said, a bit more forcefully. "I said, leave me _alone_."

"Oh, but why would I do that, when annoying you is so much more fun?" he answered silkily, and she noticed that his voice was low enough that no one else could have heard him, even if they were sitting at the table with her. Her upper arms came out in gooseflesh.

"Because I'll take fifty points from Slytherin if you don't," she replied through gritted teeth. Malfoy smirked.

"I don't think you will, Granger," he answered, still in that soft voice. "You forget that I'm a Prefect, too. I'll just give Crabbe fifty points for pummeling a first-year Hufflepuff to make up for it."

She glared at him, but knew he probably wasn't bluffing. Besides, taking House Points didn't seem like enough, quite, to make up for all he'd done to her these past few weeks.

"I could always hex you," she said, her voice dangerously low.

"I'm sure you could," he murmured, and suddenly he was looking at her mouth. Her heart sped up a bit, but she told herself it was from anger only. She licked her lips instinctively, before she could stop herself. Malfoy sucked in a sharp breath. Suddenly he was leaning so close she could hear his breath coming faster; her own breathing was hard and shallow to match his and her eyes were drawn to his lips.

But in that instant she remembered she was in the _library_, and this was _Draco Malfoy_ leaning over the table looking as though he might…well never mind what he looked like just now. She remembered that she was angry; or she should be. She pulled back her hand to slap him, but he was shaken out of his reverie just in time and stopped her hand in mid-air.

"Anh-anh-anh, little Mudblood, I'll not have a repeat of _that_," he said, his voice still low, but no longer soft. He released her hand quickly as though it might infect him and wiped his own hand on his robes.

"Great," he sneered. "Now I'm going to have to go scrub my hands to get the filth off."

"Why don't you go do that and get the hell out of my sight?" Hermione suggested in an undertone. Her fists were clenched under the table, one hand clutching her wand.

"Oh, testy, are we, Granger? Not still in mourning over that great lump Krum, are you?"

That did it. Hermione didn't know how she got to her feet that fast, she didn't remember muttering the Revulsion Jinx, she didn't even register Draco's shocked face right before he was blasted off his feet and right into the bookcase directly behind him. The bookcase toppled and tipped just far enough to shower heavy books down on Draco's head.

"Don't you _ever_ talk about him again," Hermione spat at him, the fury bubbling in her veins; she was barely keeping herself under control – another minute and she would be using an Unforgivable right there in the Hogwarts library.

Madam Pince came skidding around the corner at just that moment, glasses askew and looking incensed and horrified that someone had violated her precious books.

"What is going on here?" she shrieked.

Malfoy managed to dig himself out from under the pile of books and glared at Hermione, not even seeming to notice Pince was standing so nearby. He rubbed his shoulder where he had hit the bookcase first and looked murderous.

"I don't see why you're defending him in the first place, Granger; I'll bet you didn't even know he was cheating on you," he stopped when Hermione's face went white. "That's right, Mudblood, I guess you weren't enough for dearest Vikky, were you?" he added, his voice full of triumphant spite.

"Take that _back_!" she screeched, her voice rising several octaves and her face completely drained of color now. "You, horrible, lying – You take that back this instant!"

Draco smirked at her, and shook his head. Hermione didn't care anymore if the entire school was watching or if she had detention for the rest of her life; she threw caution to the wind and pointed her wand at his heart.

"_Stupefy_!"

A red jet of light soared from the end of her wand and struck Malfoy square in the chest. His face still held the smirk he'd worn seconds before when taunting her, but he fell backwards onto the pile of books and moved no more.

"Murder!" shrieked Madam Pince. "Murder! Headmaster! Someone go get the Headmaster!" She continued to shout as she fled the scene, presumably to go get Dumbledore. Hermione didn't care. She felt no remorse.

She calmly gathered her things and packed them neatly in her bag; every eye in the library was on her as she slung her bag over her shoulder and marched out.

"Someone should clean up that mess," she called over her shoulder as she walked through the door.

She didn't go to Gryffindor Tower; instead she turned her feet towards Dumbledore's office. It was where she would end up, anyway; why not save them all the trouble and satisfaction of dragging her there?

She turned the corner to go down the corridor where she knew his office was; and promptly ran right into Madam Pince, who was busy informing Dumbledore of the events that had just taken place in the library. Dumbledore stopped short when he saw Hermione; he stood there for a moment and surveyed her, eyes twinkling.

"It appears Miss Granger has turned herself in, ­­­­­Irma," he said cheerfully, patting the lady on the shoulder. "There, there, now, my dear woman, all will be well; just run along back to the library, I'll send Argus to help you tidy things up." Madam Pince gave a great sniff and looked as though she might cry, but nodded and headed off to the library obligingly.

"Miss Granger, if you will follow me to my office?" Dumbledore motioned to the hallway behind him and Hermione nodded. Now she was beginning to feel guilty. Not for hexing Malfoy, but for breaking the rules so flagrantly. What would Dumbledore do to her?

Dumbledore gave his password and soon they were being carried by the spiraling staircase up to his office, where he pushed open the door and motioned for Hermione to sit. Hermione sat in the same chair she'd sat in the night she arrived, and felt another pang of guilt. Dumbledore had gone out of his way to help her then; and this was the way she repaid him?

"You will be pleased to know that Mr. Malfoy has been transported to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey assures me he will make a full recovery," he said conversationally as he seated himself behind his desk. Hermione looked up at him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she mumbled. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Are you sorry you hexed Mr. Malfoy, or are you sorry there were witnesses?" he asked shrewdly. Hermione felt herself blushing. "I thought so. I'm sure this attack was not unprovoked, however; I understand Mr. Malfoy has been rather unbearable to you these past few weeks. Nevertheless, you will understand that it cannot go unpunished," he added, and Hermione felt her insides shrivel as she waited for the worst.

"Yes, Professor." She felt as though Dumbledore could see right into her thoughts through those half-moon spectacles, and it was rather unnerving.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor ought to do it, I think," he said at last. Hermione looked up at him, incredulous. That was it? "And a week's ban from the library," he added, and Hermione was so relieved she wasn't expelled she forgot to be upset that she wouldn't be able to use the library for a week. Still, she wondered if the punishment was too lenient. After all, she had attacked another student and damaged school property in the process.

"Professor?"

"I could give you a week of detention into the bargain, if you'd like," he added, eyes twinkling merrily. Hermione shook her head vigorously. "I understand if you'd prefer I sent you to your Head of House. As it stands, Minerva will not be happy that I took matters into my own hands; but you see, I have a feeling she will not be quite as understanding as I am."

Then he gave her a pronounced wink and Hermione knew she was free to go.

* * *

**A/N : The general consensus last time was that chapter previews are okay as long as I continue to update regularly, which I think I can promise to do, so chapter previews it is! Yay! I'm happy because I get to be evil some more, MUAHAHAHAHA. You just didn't know you were creating a monster, did you?**

**xxx**

**And Draco would have his revenge. He would make her suffer. He would make her pay; make them all pay.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N : Big thanks to Jack for putting up with so many chapters all at once! And special thanks to Jessica for helping me overcome writer's block this chapter! Love you girls. **

**Also thanks to my faithful reviewers, who keep me going when I think it might be better for me to stop all this nonsense. You guys keep me crazy, even when the world is peer pressuring me into being sane. So thanks! :D**

* * *

Draco was dreaming.

He was sitting in the drawing room of the Manor; he was alone. Suddenly, an owl appeared at the window. Draco stood to let it in, and the owl transformed into Hermione Granger, who sat on the windowsill and gave him a sultry look.

"Hey, Malfoy, come here, I want to show you something," she crooned, pushing her robe off her shoulder and baring just enough skin to stop Draco's breath and heart. He debated for a moment; then threw caution to the wind and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she eagerly returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Her legs were around his waist then, and he picked her up and carried her to the sofa, where they collapsed in a writhing, panting heap. He pushed her robes up around her waist in one rough motion; he wanted more.

Suddenly his father's voice came from the doorway of the drawing room. "I always knew you were worthless; sullying yourself with a Mudblood," and then Lucius raised his wand and bellowed, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The rush of wind was distorted around Draco's ears and he saw the flash of light coming and shut his eyes, waiting for the curse to hit him. Instead he felt Granger go limp in his arms.

"NOOO," he cried when he opened his eyes and saw that hers were unseeing and blank. He raised his wand at Lucius, but he was too late, another curse was flying already from the older man; it hit Draco square in the chest and everything went black.

Back in the hospital wing, Draco sat bolt upright in his bed, completely unaware of where he was and that he had been dreaming. He was drenched in sweat, and he looked around wildly. It was dark. Someone was rushing to the bed where he was, but he barely noticed them.

"He killed her! He…" Draco kicked the blanket off his legs and swung them to the cold stone floor. "The bastard! I'll kill him, I'll kill him!"

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, calm down, no one's killed anyone; please lie back down." The witch was fumbling in the dark next to him, one hand on his arm and the other waving her wand so a candle blazed to life on the bedside table. Her face came into illuminated glow immediately, and he recognized her.

"M-Madam Pomfrey? Where…where am I?"

"You're in the hospital wing, Mr. Malfoy," she replied. "At Hogwarts, remember?"

Draco suddenly felt very tired. It had been a dream, of course. Why hadn't he realized that at once? It had been strange from the start; and the idea of him defending the Mudblood? Insanity!

He had been ready to kill his father because of a stupid dream; not only that, the witch he'd been so ready to avenge was _Granger._

He leaned back on the pillows and waved the mediwitch away, assuring her that he'd merely been dreaming. Madam Pomfrey cast him a suspicious glance, but urged him to get some rest as she scurried off back to wherever the hell she went. Draco didn't care. He was thinking too much to notice.

He determined that something was wrong with him. For some reason, he was attracted to Granger. It couldn't be denied, for the previous day – before she hexed him, of course – he'd been ready to kiss her. He supposed that in that moment he'd somehow forgotten who she was and had allowed the electricity he could feel between them cloud his thinking.

That was all it had been. A moment of hormone-induced insanity. A moment that, of course, could never be repeated.

If her bloodline had been different…but that was neither here nor there. Her blood was what it was, and it was simply unacceptable for him to associate with her, in that way or otherwise. And with that, Draco lay his head on the pillow and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The next day, Madam Pomfrey pronounced Draco fit as a fiddle and released him to go to classes, as long as he didn't overexert himself.

The only comfort Draco had was that Granger had more than likely been expelled immediately when they learned she had openly attacked him the way she had. He heaved an inward sigh of relief as he left the hospital wing, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore.

He'd already missed more than half of his first class, Transfiguration, when Madam Pomfrey released him, so he headed for the Prefect's bathroom for a quick bath before Potions.

Thirty minutes later, he stepped out into the hall, his hair still glistening from the bath and feeling much better. He plunged his hands into his pockets and whistled tunelessly as he strolled down to the dungeons. He stopped briefly in his dorm to pick up his schoolbag, then he headed for dungeon five, the Potions classroom.

He walked in and couldn't help but smirk. He'd been right, of course; Granger wasn't there, and she was usually the first to arrive, the goody two-shoes. Draco dropped his bag on his regular table and began to unpack his things, humming slightly to himself as his good mood persisted.

Suddenly his happy disposition was shattered into a million pieces as he heard the unmistakable voices of Potter, Weasley, and none other than Hermione Granger enter the room behind him. He whipped his head around quickly, not even bothering to hide his shock and anger that Granger hadn't been expelled.

"You!"

"Yes, me. Who did you expect, the Minister of Magic?" Granger replied sarcastically with a smirk. Draco resisted the urge to curse her into oblivion.

"They haven't chucked you out?" he spat, trying to regain some of his composure now. It wouldn't do to let them see him all out of joint over this.

"Apparently not, as I'm still here," she replied, setting her bag down and beginning to unpack it. Potter and the Weasel chuckled stupidly.

"Better watch out, Malfoy, or she'll hex you again," Weasley grinned, elbowing Potter in the ribs. Hermione pretended not to hear, but Draco saw the barely concealed grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah, Weasley? Why don't you just hex me yourself? Or do you have to always hide behind your little Mudblood girlfriend?" he retorted. He knew it was lame, but he could barely think straight at this point, he was so angry Granger hadn't been expelled. The best he could do was attack her friends and her parentage.

The look on her face as she stepped up to stand beside the Weasel almost made it all worth it. She was so angry that her eyes glittered - barely controlled magic danced in those eyes.

If Snape hadn't walked in right then she might have hexed him again. All three of them might have attacked him at once, actually, as they all drew their wands at the exact same moment.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for drawing wands in my classroom," Snape barked as he swept between them to the front of the room. He didn't even look at them as he passed, and Weasley groaned at the loss of points. Snape whisked around as he reached his desk and arched an eyebrow maliciously. "Each," he added, causing groans from several Gryffindors who had just entered the dungeon classroom.

"Silence!" Snape snapped, and the room quieted instantly.

Draco took his seat as class began. He was certainly not happy. Even the extra points docked from Gryffindor didn't cheer him that much. Granger was still at Hogwarts. After she almost killed him!

He hated her. He hated her arrogance, her skill with a wand and her blood. He hated her idiot friends. He hated that Potter was still breathing, that Weasley had managed to scrape through to fifth year classes, and that Hermione Granger was still at his school.

In his earlier years, Draco mused, he would have just owled his father to have this whole mess straightened out. He could have had her expelled if he'd wanted to. Lucius would have had no problem getting a Muggle-born chucked out, all Draco really had to do was ask. Of course he couldn't do that now; it would only further convince his father that he was useless and weak, and besides, he reasoned, _I can take care of this myself._

He would have his revenge. He would make her suffer. He would make her pay; make them all pay, once and for all.

* * *

Draco skipped lunch in favor of a little trip to the library.

He had considered going to the common room, but there was always a chance that some couple had skipped lunch in order to have an uninterrupted snog session there, and he needed a place where he wouldn't be disturbed. Outside on the grounds would have been a good second choice, but the weather was already getting cooler, and at least in the library he'd be sheltered from the wind that was blowing mercilessly outside today.

When he arrived in the library, habit sent him on his way to his regular table in the stacks, but he stopped short halfway there.

_Perhaps that might not be the safest place,_ he mused. He wasn't thinking of running into Granger again; it was just that he didn't think he wanted to be in the place he'd been when he'd almost kissed her. It might send him on a train of thought he wouldn't like.

So he settled for a table on the edge of the library instead. It was next to a window overlooking the lake; and he could see the giant squid stretching its tentacles lazily above the water before it disappeared into the murky blackness. The water barely made a ripple in response.

Draco dropped his bag on the table and extracted a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill. He sat down in a chair and spread the parchment on the table.

How can I get even with Granger, once and for all?

From somewhere down the line in his education from Lucius, he remembered that if you wanted to destroy someone, the best way to go about it was indirectly. You didn't attack them head-on; instead you attacked the things they cared about. Emotional pain sometimes was greater than physical pain.

So. What does our dear little Mudblood care about?

For starters, she practically worshipped that stupid git Potter. She'd have a cow if she made anything less than top marks in any of her classes. And she obviously still gave a damn about that wanker Krum, even though for the life of him Draco couldn't figure out why.

_What else is there?_ he thought irritably.

Before too long, Draco heard voices in the corridor outside the library and knew lunch was over. He had a short list of things he knew Granger cared about scrawled on the parchment, which he rolled up and magically sealed so that no one but him could open it. He wasn't exactly pleased with his plan yet, but he decided it was a start, at least.

Smirking, Draco stowed the scroll in the pocket of his robes and left the library. Whistling softly, he made his way not to the dungeons, but up to Ravenclaw tower. There was someone he needed to see.

* * *

Two days later, Draco's plan was in full swing. Even he had to admit it was brilliant; and even he couldn't have guessed how smoothly it would go.

He was set to meet her in the library after lunch to study. She had agreed to help him with his Charms homework after he'd convinced her he was a complete dunce at it and would never figure it out on his own. She'd bought every word he'd said; apparently she couldn't resist helping someone with their homework, even across House boundaries.

When he walked in the library, he didn't have to look far to find her. She was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, her books and notes strewn around her. Draco strolled over to her table and placed his hands on the back of her chair. She stiffened when she realized someone was behind her.

"Sit down, Malfoy," she said, not even turning around. He smirked and dropped into the chair next to her.

"Why so formal, love?" he drawled as he pulled his Charms book out of his bag. "If we're going to be spending so much time together, you should be able to call me Draco."

"Fine, Draco," she sighed, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. "What did you need help with?"

"Well, Padma, darling, I need whatever your brilliant Ravenclaw brain can give me," he replied silkily, cocking an eyebrow at her and giving her a dashing smile. He couldn't be sure, but he was sure she had blushed a bit before delving into her bag for another book. When she brought her head up a second later, she was calm and collected once more.

The rest of their free period passed in a similar way, excepting that Draco decided to tone down his charm a bit. He didn't like to overdo it, after all. He wanted to charm this girl, but first he had to gain her trust. It wouldn't be as hard to gain her trust as it would be to gain Granger's, he knew, but he still had to get past his pureblooded prat reputation even with Padma Patil.

In fact, she would be the essential tool in his plan to get to Granger.

Padma didn't know it, but she was playing right into his hands. By the time they parted ways, they had set up a regular study date in the library, every other day after lunch during their free period. He would use these meetings to get her to fall for him; and he would treat her better than any other boy had ever treated her before. He would essentially sweep her off her feet.

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew Padma had a twin sister in Gryffindor, and that said sister shared a dormitory with a certain bushy-haired know-it-all and would certainly share every detail of her sister's relationship with her. It was only a matter of time before Granger decided that Draco wasn't so bad after all.

And that, Draco decided, was when he would strike. She would never know what hit her.

* * *

**A/N : It's that time again, folks! **

**xxx**

**Malfoy jumped and put his hand over her mouth quickly, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. In doing so, he brought their bodies very close together, and she could hear his breath coming hard as he finally brought his steel grey eyes back to meet her wide brown ones.**

**"Shut it, Granger, do you want someone to hear and come running? I thought you were supposed to be smart," he whispered fiercely, his eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. Suddenly he seemed to remember his hand was over her mouth and he snatched it away harshly, taking a step backwards for good measure.**

**xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N : Okay, first thing's first. I need to give credit to violingrl07, without whose diabolical idea this story would have ground to a screeching halt. She graciously let me use said idea for this humble story. I hope she approves! **

**By the way, everyone should go read her story The Three Portals, which is a Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger fic. Yeah, I know, that's what I said, but go read it because it's WORTH it. You will fall in love with Tom just like you did with Draco, trust me. Anyway, Tom does something like this in that fic, and Draco's doing it in mine. Comments? Complaints? Keep them to yourself, lol. Unless they're good.**

**Oh, and by the way, violingrl07, if you're reading this, stop reading GO TO WORK ON CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN! I mean it.**

* * *

"I wonder where Malfoy is," commented Hermione as she settled herself at her usual table in Potions. She, Harry, and Ron had almost been late to class this morning because they had been checking out the Room of Requirement; it had proved to be the perfect place to hold their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and they were all subsequently in good moods.

Everyone else appeared to be present; Snape was due to arrive at any moment, and yet it was true, Malfoy wasn't at his table, and that was odd. He was usually early for this class.

"Maybe he caught a disease and died," Ron said hopefully. "That'd be awesome."

Harry chuckled, but Hermione shot him a look that silenced him immediately.

"That's terrible, Ron," she admonished him, pulling out her Potions textbook and placing it on the table in front of her. Then she opened her schoolbag and frowned into it. "_Where_ is that stupid essay, anyway?" she muttered irritably.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, but Hermione continued to rummage in her bag. "Hermione," he said again, a bit more forcibly. She looked up. Harry pointed to a scroll of paper next to her Potions book.

"Oh." Hermione blushed and closed her bag.

Meanwhile, in the desk right behind Hermione, Parvati Patil was busy holding a whispered conversation with Lavender Brown. Hermione rolled her eyes as Parvati giggled a bit too loudly for Hermione's taste, and was about to turn round and tell them to stuff it when she caught a bit of their conversation.

"…what I said. Draco Malfoy."

"What?! You must be joking," Lavender gasped. Hermione pretended to be pulling a quill from her bag as she strained her ears to listen; in her curiosity she didn't even bother to rationalize why she even cared why they were talking about _him_.

"No, I swear. Padma told me this morning," Parvati replied earnestly. Lavender was quiet for almost a whole minute. _Must be some sort of record_, Hermione thought dryly. Her mind was whirring now, though, and she couldn't help but wonder what exactly the two girls behind her were talking about.

Just then, Snape stalked into the classroom, robes billowing characteristically behind him, and started class. She would have to wait until later to find out, apparently. And Malfoy still wasn't in his seat.

* * *

Lunch in the Great Hall began innocently enough; Hermione, Harry, and Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, chatting idly about how lame Snape was for setting so much homework for that night and speculating about where Malfoy had been and what the chances actually were that he'd caught something and died.

When the food appeared on the table moments later, Hermione felt the familiar tug in her gut that she'd come to expect when she was faced with eating. It had become more pronounced over the last week, and now it had become sort of a habit. She ladled out a bit of this, a bit of that, being careful to avoid the foods she knew she shouldn't have.

She ate a few bites between sentences as she talked animatedly with the boys, the whole time hoping that they would notice her eating something. In a moment she ducked under the table to rifle through her bag for her library book and, unbeknownst to the boys, her wand.

Harry and Ron continued their conversation, which had now turned to Quidditch and the upcoming match between Gryffindor and Slytherin; they didn't notice as she _Evanesco_'ed a few large chunks of food from her plate, making it look as though she'd eaten more.

Satisfied with her work, she stowed her wand in the pocket of her robes and looked up again just in time to see nearly everyone in the Great Hall turn their heads as one and look at the big double doors.

The scene she witnessed would fuel the Hogwarts gossip mill for weeks to come.

There really wasn't anything unusual about the way Draco Malfoy was strolling into the Hall, unless you counted the fact that he was doing so after missing all his classes so far that day. The unusual thing was that he was smiling. Not a smirk or the forced smile he generally saved for the teachers, but a genuine, happy smile.

Hermione noticed that he was actually quite handsome when he smiled.

Before she could form another thought, however, a tall girl with dark, shining hair ran up behind Malfoy and grabbed his arm. Malfoy's smile went even wider as he turned to look at Padma Patil, who returned the smile and stood on tiptoe to whisper something into his ear. Malfoy's grin faltered for a second, and if Hermione hadn't known better, she would have sworn he went slightly red around the ears. Padma produced an old, thick volume from her schoolbag and pressed it into Malfoy's hands, then turned and quickly retreated to the Ravenclaw table.

Immediately the Great Hall, which had been collectively holding its breath during this exchange, erupted in a surge of whispered speculations as to what had just happened before their very eyes.

Hermione suddenly felt inexplicably angry and annoyed. She couldn't understand why everyone was so excited. After all, it was only a stupid little ten-second scene they'd all witnessed, not exactly the scandal of the century.

"Whoa," Ron said in a low voice to Harry and Hermione. "What do you think _that_ was all about?"

"D'you reckon Malfoy's going soft?" Harry wondered. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, you two, you sound as bad as Lavender and Parvati!" she snapped, gathering her things and rising from the table in a huff. Then she turned and left the Great Hall without another word to anyone, leaving Harry and Ron to exchange confused looks behind her.

That night in her dormitory, she was attempting to study, but her dormmates wouldn't stop talking about Malfoy and Padma. Oh, how she wished her week-long ban from the library was up so she could escape their mindless prattle!

"I heard that they get together three times a week in the library to snog," Lavender said around a giggle.

"That's not true," Parvati replied, sounding scandalized, but the effect was ruined when she burst into laughter, too. "Couldn't you just see them, though?"

"Well, Malfoy _is_ really handsome," Lavender sighed. Hermione snorted loudly from behind her book. "You can't tell me you don't think he's cute, Hermione Granger," Lavender called from across the room. Hermione emerged from behind her Transfiguration book with a sneer worthy of Malfoy himself.

"If you think self-obsessed, sadistic little boys with far too much money and free time are cute," she said disdainfully before disappearing behind her book once more.

"Really, Hermione," Lavender groaned. "What's he ever done to you, anyway?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione dropped her book on her bed and stood up, suddenly very angry. "What's he _done _to me? What about never missing a chance to say something nasty about me and my friends in the hallways? What about cursing me last year and making my front teeth grow almost to the floor? What about constantly trying to get me, Harry, and Ron in trouble? What about simply being a _git_?"

Lavender and Parvati simply stared at her, open-mouthed. Parvati spoke first.

"Calm down, Hermione," she said softly, as if afraid to set her off again. "I was standing right there when Malfoy cursed you, you know, and he was trying to curse Harry, not you, remember?"

"So that makes it all better, does it?" Hermione snapped. "He was only trying to curse my _best friend_, so I suppose I should forgive the evil little rat," she added sarcastically.

"I don't think he's evil," Lavender whispered, almost inaudibly. Hermione shot her a dark glance and she quickly began to study the pattern in the rug at her feet.

"I think I've had enough of your nonsensical ramblings for one night," Hermione said loftily after a moment, stooping to pick up her bag. Then she swept from the room without a backwards glance, leaving a shocked silence behind her.

She wanted to go to the library, her sanctuary from the storm, but she didn't dare; she wasn't about to get in trouble again and possibly lose more House points. She generally left that up to Harry.

Hermione had been walking very fast, still angry and hurt that the only two girls who were even close to being her friends didn't care if Draco Malfoy was horrible to her, just so long as he was dreamy. Scowling, she realized that she was standing in front of the Great Hall, and her stomach let out a loud growl as she remembered her half-eaten dinner.

She turned away from the Hall impatiently. She didn't have time to think about such discomforts of the flesh just now. She needed to walk. So she made a left turn and found herself walking down a sloping hallway towards the Potions classroom. Her footsteps slowed.

The dungeons certainly were creepy at night; the torches glowed an icy blue and cast everything around them into an almost-tangible gloom. Hermione shivered. She could almost feel the walls closing in on her and every small sound made her jump. A mouse let out a sharp squeak and she spun around, heart beating fast.

_There's no one there, Hermione, _she chided herself. _It was just a mouse. Are you afraid of a teensy ickle mousey? _She shook her head quickly and turned back around.

"You know, Granger, you should really think twice before wandering in the dungeons all alone, especially at night."

Malfoy was standing directly in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, sneering at her. She let out a small scream.

Malfoy jumped and put his hand over her mouth quickly, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. In doing so, he brought their bodies very close together, and she could hear his breath coming hard as he finally brought his steel grey eyes back to meet her wide brown ones.

"Shut it, Granger, do you want someone to hear and come running? I thought you were supposed to be smart," he whispered fiercely, his eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. Suddenly he seemed to remember his hand was over her mouth and he snatched it away harshly, taking a step backwards for good measure.

"You gave me a fright, Malfoy, what was I supposed to do? Honestly, jumping out at people in the dark like that…What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked, running her hands over her hair and robes to smooth them.

"Prefect duty," Malfoy replied matter-of-factly. "What are _you_ doing down here?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Looking for a quiet place to study."

"At this hour? Why didn't you just go to the library?"

"Week-long ban," Hermione replied, blushing slightly as she remembered it was because she'd hexed _him_ that she even had the ban in the first place.

"Why didn't you study in your bleeding common room?" Malfoy asked, clearly remembering the same thing she was, irritation etched in his features.

"Too noisy."

"Dorm room?"

Hermione faltered. "Truth?" Malfoy nodded slightly. "Parvati and Lavender wouldn't shut up talking about _you_," she crossed her arms and glared at him, as if it were his fault the two girls were talking about him. _Well, it _is_ his fault, _she thought bitterly.

"Me?" Malfoy looked incredulous.

"You're _talking _to Padma Patil now; Padma whose sister shares a dorm with me," Hermione explained in a slow voice, as if she were speaking to a two year old. "And I have to listen to this," she adopted Lavender's high-pitched voice and continued, "Did you know they meet three times a week in the library to snog, and Draco Malfoy is oh, so handsome, and don't you think so, Hermione?" She rolled her eyes.

Draco waited a moment. Then he crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Well, what did you say?"

Hermione laughed. "I told them I thought you were a self-obsessed, poncy little pretty boy who also happens to be an evil git," she replied without hesitation.

"Did you really say all that?" he asked, smirking.

"Well, except for the poncy little pretty boy part, yeah," she replied, smirking back.

"You really think I'm pretty?" Malfoy asked with faux modesty.

"Of course, anyone with eyes can see that," Hermione said sarcastically around another laugh.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I'm debating taking twenty points from Gryffindor for calling me a git," Malfoy replied.

"Oh, I'd just give thirty to Harry for beating you at Quidditch," Hermione retorted.

"As if _that_ will ever happen," he scoffed, brushing his nails on the shoulder of his robe.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked after a moment. She hesitated when he raised his eyebrows at her. She couldn't believe she was having a civil conversation with _Draco Malfoy_ of all people, especially not one where they both laughed and he hadn't called her Mudblood once.

"Are you going to stare at me all night, or did you have something to say?" he asked impatiently.

"Why did you say that – the other day – a-about V-Viktor," she stammered, her voice trailing off over the end of her question so that it didn't come out as a question at all. She couldn't meet his eyes anymore, so she studied her hands as she twisted them, waiting.

There was a moment when she thought he had walked away without answering.

"I saw him," Malfoy said quietly. Hermione looked up sharply. It was his turn to study the floor.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw him," he repeated, looking up to meet her eyes defiantly.

"What – what do you mean, 'you saw him?' You can't have seen Viktor, he wasn't even in the country this summer," Hermione said, sure she must have misheard him, or that Malfoy was mistaken.

"No," Malfoy said firmly. He took a deep breath. "I saw him with – with another girl. They were kissing."

"You can't have! You can't have," Hermione repeated. She turned away from him now, trying to straighten this all out in her head.

"Believe me or not, Granger," Malfoy said from behind her. She looked over her shoulder. He was looking at her, his gaze steady.

"Well I _don't_ believe you, Malfoy. I don't believe that you could be so cruel; and I don't believe you could make up such horrible stories about someone who can't defend themselves," Hermione snapped. "This is a new low, even for you," and she flipped her hair over her shoulder and left him standing in the cold stone corridor behind her.

* * *

**A/N : Preview time!**

**xxx**

**She was definitely too close now. Her eyes were locked onto his and he wondered if they were about to kiss. _Stupid thought_, he scolded himself. _Of course we are_. **

**xxx**

Suddenly they were standing so close he could hear her breathing and smell her shampoo. Something flowery, he decided. _Why does it always have to be flowery? _he wondered absently.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N : So. I've nothing clever to say just now. Except to thank my betas, Jack and Jessica, as usual. Now stop reading this author's note and go read the chapter! For goodness sake! :D**

* * *

Draco could kick himself. He really could. What was he thinking, going all soft on the Mudblood like that? He had actually felt _sorry_ for her.

Stupid Mudblood. She thought she could walk away from him like that? Calling him a liar, indeed. For once he'd been telling the truth, and the little bitch had the nerve to say he had made it up. _Why_ would he make something like that up, anyway?

He had tried to tell her the truth. He'd wanted to _help_ her, for some unknown reason. Well, no more. He had to remember his mission.

_She's the enemy_, he reminded himself. _And I'm going to have my revenge._

The next Hogsmeade weekend was only two days away, and he had to get moving on the next phase of his plan.

"Padma?" he called as he entered the library, earning him a sharp look from the librarian. He flashed Madam Pince one of his patented charming smiles and continued to the table where Padma was sitting with her notes spread around her as usual. It was time for their study session.

"Draco, do you want to get us chucked out?" Padma admonished cheerfully as he sat next to her. Draco smiled and closed the book in front of her playfully. "Hey!" she cried in a whisper.

"Never mind that now; I have something I wanted to ask you."

"No, you can't copy my Transfiguration homework."

"Damn. That wasn't what I was going to ask you, though."

"Well, get on with it," Padma sighed, propping her chin on her hand and staring at him expectantly.

"Go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Padma looked shocked for about half a second. "What do you mean, like a date or something?"

"Well…yes, something like that," Draco answered, contriving to sound nervous. He was, in fact, a bit apprehensive that she would say no and his plan would fail, but he was not to be disappointed.

"Sure," Padma said after a moment. "It's a date."

"Good," Draco sighed, genuinely relieved. "Now, about that Transfiguration homework…" he trailed off suggestively.

"I'll help you with it," Padma said with a laugh. Draco grinned at her, and together they began working.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit, Draco met Padma at the door to her dormitory. She looked excited and slightly flushed as she joined him and they walked to the front doors of the castle, laughing and talking. They joined the queue at the door and Draco elbowed Padma in the ribs slightly and pointed at Filch, who was running Probity Probes over every student before they could leave.

Draco hunched his back slightly and poked Padma with his wand, and she collapsed into silent giggles as he whispered fiercely, "I know you little bleeders have Dungbombs! I just know it! For every Dungbomb I find, I will kill you!"

They laughed together at his rather feeble impersonation of Filch, and the line slowly inched forward toward the great double doors. Finally, they were free; pushed into the crisp air of a perfect autumn day.

"So where are we going first?" Padma asked conversationally. Draco shrugged.

"Wherever you like," he replied. Padma thought for a moment.

"Bookstore?"

"Great idea," Draco smiled. Chances were good that they would run into Granger there; and he could push along his plan a bit. "I need a new quill."

When they entered the bookstore ten minutes later, Draco was pleased to find the aforementioned Mudblood prowling the bookshelves just as he'd expected. He pretended not to notice her; he grabbed Padma suddenly by the wrist and pulled her over to a display of eagle feather quills by the door, within clear earshot of Granger.

"Over here, love," he drawled. Padma laughed.

"All right, Draco," she replied good-naturedly. "After this, you have to help me find that book we were talking about the other day, remember?"

"Of course," he answered smilingly. Then he leaned in close and whispered next to her ear, "How could I forget anything you tell me?"

Padma blushed prettily and pushed him slightly away with a grin. They picked out a quill for Draco and then went off in search of the book. When he looked around again, Draco noticed that Granger was nowhere to be seen. He smirked. _Hopefully she saw that little display before she left,_ he thought.

Draco continued to lay on the charm for the rest of the day. It helped that Granger continued to show up at the same places he and Padma did. Either Hogsmeade was too small or she was following them. His plan was working perfectly.

It was almost nightfall when they finally made it back to Hogwarts. They had grabbed a bite to eat at the Three Broomsticks before heading back to the castle, and so they skipped the Great Hall and Draco walked Padma back to Ravenclaw tower. There was a slightly uncomfortable moment as they loitered just outside the door.

"Thanks, Draco," Padma said in an effort to break the awkward silence. "I had a wonderful time today."

"Me too," Draco said honestly. Frankly, he was surprised that it was the truth, and it actually threw him a bit. Padma smiled and moved closer. Suddenly they were standing so close he could hear her breathing and smell her shampoo. Something flowery, he decided. _Why does it always have to be flowery? _he wondered absently.

She was definitely too close now. Her eyes were locked onto his and he wondered if they were about to kiss. _Stupid thought_, he scolded himself. _Of course we are_. But he wasn't sure that was what he wanted. She was pretty, of course, and it went along with his plan, but something didn't feel right about it.

He shook the strange feeling away and leaned down a bit, closing the rest of the space between their lips in one motion. Padma sighed and her hands were on his shoulders. He closed his eyes and brought a hand to her cheek.

Then as quickly as it had happened, it was over and they broke apart. She blushed up at him and gave him a small, crooked smile.

"Good night," she whispered, and then she disappeared into her dormitory as someone opened the door from the inside.

Draco stood in the hallway for a few minutes, completely stunned. Then he shook his head quickly and couldn't help but smile. This was perfect.

The next morning, Draco's hopes were confirmed when he entered the Great Hall. Every head turned to watch him as he made his way to the Slytherin table for breakfast. Whispered conversations were happening all around him, and people were casting furtive glances his way.

"Draco, how could you?" a shrill voice from over his left shoulder cried. _Great. Pansy._ Draco didn't really want to have to deal with her this morning, but he had known he'd have to face her sooner or later.

"What's the matter, Pansy, my dear?" Draco said, turning to face her. She stood with her hands on her slim hips, her pink bottom lip jutted out just so.

"Don't you give me any of that sweet talk today, Draco Malfoy," she snapped, advancing toward him a few steps. Draco smiled his most charming smile.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"What's this business with you and that Ravenclaw girl snogging at all hours of the night? I've heard so many rumors I don't know how to separate them from fact anymore," she growled, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder impatiently. "I _would_ have said that I knew you wouldn't do that sort of thing outside of house, but now I feel like I hardly know you anymore."

"It _is_ true that Padma and I are…friendly with each other," Draco said carefully. He wasn't exactly sure what Padma wanted everyone to think, and after all, it was her he was trying to keep happy. Pansy gasped.

"So you don't deny it! I can't believe you, Draco," she said, and laughed a small mirthless laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I thought we had something once. But now you can forget ever running back to me. Our relationship is _over._"

"Did we have a relationship, Pansy, my sweet? Or did you _hope_ we did?" Draco asked softly, dangerously. He didn't like to be dumped, even if there wasn't a relationship to be dumped from. If anyone was being dumped, it was Pansy, and he didn't hesitate to tell her so.

"Well, whatever we had, it's gone now," Pansy replied, her voice quavering and her eyes looking suspiciously wet. Then she turned on her heel and fled the Great Hall; Draco simply shrugged and tucked into his eggs and toast.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about _her_ anymore.

Just then, Padma walked in the large double doors of the Great Hall. She seemed not to notice that every eye was on her as she crossed to the Slytherin table and made her way up the aisle to where Draco sat.

"Morning, Draco," she said easily, smiling widely. "You forgot this yesterday." Then she reached in the pocket of her robes and produced the eagle feather quill he'd bought the day before in Hogsmeade. Draco laughed.

"So I did," he replied, taking the quill from her and brushing her fingers with his own at the same time. "Thank you for returning it," he added with a dashing smile.

Padma arched an eyebrow and leaned down so her mouth was inches from his ear.

"I hope you won't be so forgetful next time," she breathed. Draco couldn't help but grin. She knew the Hall was watching now, he was sure. She was just giving them all something else to talk about. Before he could say anything else, she was gone; walking calmly over to the Ravenclaw table as if nothing strange had happened whatsoever.

_Strange girl_, Draco thought wryly.

Breakfast seemed to taste much better after that.

* * *

A week passed. The whole school knew by now that Draco and Padma were an item. Padma had confided in him that her sister finally approved of them being together, something that Draco wasn't surprised about at all. He pretended to be shocked, however, because he knew that it was the reaction Padma wanted from him.

"Really? I thought she only thought I was 'dreamy, but at the end of the day, still a Slytherin,'" Draco quoted. This was the opinion Parvati had given her sister just a week prior. Padma laughed and swatted at his arm. They were sitting in the library, working on several essays together.

"She's changed her mind, apparently; mind you, I've had quite a time convincing her you were the best boyfriend I'd ever ha –" she stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth. Draco smirked. "You weren't supposed to hear that," Padma said sheepishly.

"Am I truly the best?" he asked smugly.

"Not if it's going to cause your head to swell to three times its normal size," Padma replied, a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"Well, ego aside, I _do_ pride myself on being the best in everything I attempt."

"You're so full of yourself, you know that?"

"You like it."

"Hmm."

"Padma?"

"Yes?"

Draco faltered. "If you saw something happen, and you wanted to tell someone…but you were sure that person wouldn't believe you, and hate you for telling them…would you say anything?"

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing, nothing," he replied, suddenly engrossed in his Potions essay. He could feel Padma's eyes on him.

"It isn't 'nothing,' is it, Draco? What did you see?"

"I – I don't want to talk about it," he covered. He knew he'd already said too much. Padma wasn't about to drop it, however.

"Talk to me," she said softly, putting her hand on his arm gently. He looked up and met her eyes. She really wanted to help him.

Too bad he didn't want to be helped.

"Forget about it," he said harshly, snatching his arm away and gathering up his things to go.

"Draco, wait." He paused and looked at Padma expectantly. Her gaze wavered under his severe look and she cast her eyes down and stared at the table.

"That's what I thought," he said nastily, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He wanted to get out of that library right then, if not sooner.

In a minute, he was stalking through the corridors on the way back to the dungeon. He took a wrong turn and ended up down a hallway he'd never seen before. Cursing himself, he was about to turn back when he heard a familiar voice.

"Not lost, are you?"

Draco turned around and found himself face to face with the last person he wanted to see.

"Of course not, Granger," he lied. He was angry, first with himself for letting part of his secret go to Padma, then with the blasted girl for actually _pitying _him, and now with Granger for being so damn smug.

"You certainly _look_ as though you know exactly where you are," she replied with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Even if I were lost – which I'm not – I would rather stay lost for the rest of my life than ask for help from _you_," he retorted, anger boiling just under the surface. Granger blushed and looked angry as well.

"And to think I had actually begun to think you were all right," she said hotly. Draco immediately regretted his anger. He was trying to get _close_ to this scum, not drive her further away. He sighed deeply and tried to look contrite.

"Look, Granger, I'm sorry," he said weakly. He _hated_ apologizing to her, but it must be done, he reasoned with himself. "I just – had a fight with Padma, that's all."

"A fight with Padma?" Hermione repeated, her anger gone in a flash. She looked concerned. "Is everything all right?"

Draco decided to play up the brokenhearted act and get Granger to feel sorry for him.

"It's complicated," he began. There was nothing girls liked better than complicated love issues, he knew. He slumped down against the wall and put his head in his hands. Almost instantly, Granger was kneeling at his side. She put her hand tentatively on his shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked carefully, unknowingly mirroring the words Padma had said half an hour before. Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair and gazed up at the ceiling.

"I don't know," he replied. He decided that now was the time to fabricate some problems in his relationship with Padma. "She's started to smother me, asking me all sorts of inappropriate questions that I don't want to answer." That wasn't exactly a lie. He had grown rather weary of the other girl during the past week. She always wanted to be with him, and that was wearing on Draco, reminding him a bit too much of Pansy.

"Is it really all that bad?" Granger asked. "I mean, you seem so happy together. I'm sure if you just talked to her and told her how you feel, things would get better."

Was Granger actually trying to keep him together with Padma? His plan was working better than he'd expected.

"I suppose I could…" he trailed off. Then he smiled at her appreciatively. "Thanks, Hermione."

She blinked at the use of her first name, then smiled warmly.

"You're welcome, Draco."

Inwardly, Draco laughed. No, she would never know what hit her.

* * *

**A/N : Now don't hate me because I had Draco kiss Padma! I like her! No reviews dissing Padma. Absolutely none. I mean it.**

**And now for your preview...hmmm...what shall it be? Oh, I know!**

**xxx**

**"Hermione," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Are you all right? Who did this to you? I'll kill whoever it was, I swear, just tell me a name," he added fiercely, looking murderous.**

**xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N : Everybody needs to pray that my writer's block will lift soon! Blarg. I hate writer's block. But then again, who doesn't? I'm rambling now, but I don't care. You have to listen to me! Well, you don't, really, but you're still reading this, aren't you?**

**Thanks Jack! Thanks Jessica! There was completely something else I was supposed to say here, but I can't remember anything just now...something snarky and rather amusing that one or both of you would have laughed at...Okay, just pretend that I said something witty. :)**

**And I would like to apologize in advance for the angsty nature of this chappie. I mean, I shouldn't have to apologize for it, since one of the categories this story is listed under _is_ angst. But whatever. There is lots of lovely inner struggle, and not much action in this chapter. Next chapter will be more action-y, so to speak. Anyway, ENJOY!**

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Hermione was sitting in the library. Her ban had finally been lifted, and after what had seemed like two months to her, she was finally home. Inwardly, she laughed.

_People would really think I'm odd if they could read my thoughts just now_.

She was at her favorite table, books piled all around her, studying. Or at least trying to.

More and more often, her thoughts turned to Malfoy. Hermione had been duly suspicious when he had become involved with Padma Patil; surely the other girl was too smart to get involved with Draco Malfoy, the horrible, evil prat that he was. But soon it was all over the school that they were dating, and Hermione was forced to believe.

Parvati and Lavender were always talking about the pair now. Parvati said that Padma would gush about how Malfoy was so sweet and good to her, that he was the best boyfriend she'd ever had, how he was a perfect gentleman. Hermione couldn't believe it. She had followed them around Hogsmeade the previous weekend, trying to catch Malfoy doing something wrong, but everything seemed, well, perfect between the two.

Malfoy had held doors open for Padma, carried her parcels, paid for her butterbeer; and all the time he never said one mean word about or to anyone. Hermione was shocked.

After a while, she began to think that maybe Malfoy wasn't so horrible after all. He was, in fact, treating Padma better than even Viktor had treated _her_. She couldn't believe it, but the facts didn't lie. Maybe Malfoy really had changed.

Then she ran across him in the hallway that night. At first she thought she'd been right all along, because he snapped at her and was extremely rude; _typical Malfoy_, she'd thought at the time.

But then the unexpected happened. She saw him in a way she'd never seen him before: vulnerable. He looked…sad and helpless. She wanted to help him; actually wanted to _help_ him, despite the fact that he'd been a slimy git for as long as she could remember.

_Perhaps people _can _change_, Hermione thought.

Suddenly the clock chimed the hour, and Hermione gasped. "Lunch already?"

She'd been so wrapped up in her studies that she'd forgotten the time. She packed her books and scrolls into her schoolbag, which she had enchanted to feel light no matter how many books were in it, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for the Great Hall.

Hermione didn't hurry like all the students who were practically running to make it past her to the Hall for lunch, but she loitered behind and took her time. By the time she reached the Hall, lunch was halfway over with, and she sighed.

_At least I won't have to sit here through all of it,_ she thought, relieved. She sat with Ron and Harry, as usual, and they were busy making fun of – who else? – Malfoy.

"Yeah, and I heard ol' Dorko was practically crying the other day because Padma yelled at him," Ron was saying. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can't you think of anything more interesting to talk about than Malfoy?" she asked in a bored voice, spooning some green beans onto her plate.

Harry and Ron simply laughed. Hermione speared a green bean and brought it to her mouth. It was only on her 23rd chew that she noticed them both staring at her.

"What?" she asked after she swallowed, nervously eyeing them. _Oh, God, what if they've noticed?_

"Hermione, are you…like on a diet or something?" Harry asked, obviously uncomfortable.

"Why would you ask something like that?" she snapped, suddenly angry.

"Well, for starters, all you've got on your plate is green beans," Ron supplied, gesturing to the plate in front of her. Hermione felt her cheeks go red.

"Actually, if you _must_ know, my stomach isn't feeling so well today," she lied through gritted teeth. Then she pushed back the bench she sat on angrily and excused herself from their presence. _Damn. If these buffoons have noticed something out of the ordinary, then I've got to be more careful._

Hermione resolved to take better care to ensure no one knew of her little secret.

It had started out as a way to mourn Viktor, but it had surpassed that now. It had become a bit more of an obsession, this thing with food. She kept telling herself it was still for Viktor, but her sharp mind knew better.

More and more these past few days she found herself thinking about what Malfoy had said about Viktor cheating on her, and more and more she found herself getting angry.

First she was angry with Malfoy for making up such a stupid lie anyway; she knew that Viktor wouldn't do that to her, right? But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like just the sort of thing that _would_ happen to the little bookworm Hermione Granger. The first real boyfriend she had would of course be cheating on her. She didn't deserve to have someone be _faithful_ to her, did she?

She began to explore it logically. Wasn't she good enough? What had caused him to cheat on her in the first place?

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She was angry with Viktor. How _dare_ he do something like that to her? If what Malfoy said was true, then Viktor had betrayed her. Why?

She broke into a run when she made it to the front hall; her feet pounded against the stone and the sound of it rang through the empty corridors. Her legs pumped harder and harder and her schoolbag jostled and slapped against her side.

The tears she had been holding back since the day she found out Viktor had been murdered were stinging hotly at the back of her eyes. She didn't have the strength to hold them back anymore, and they spilled down her cheeks, wet and angry.

She slid to a stop in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, who looked so shocked to see her there in such a condition that she didn't even ask for the password, just swung open for Hermione to enter.

Hermione ran through the common room and up to her dormitory, never happier that Lavender and Parvati weren't there to see her cry.

She flung her schoolbag across the room and screamed with fury and pain.

It skidded across the room and stopped just before the full-length mirror that stood next to Lavender's bed. Hermione glanced at it. Slowly, she advanced towards it.

She peered at her reflection. _Of course Viktor couldn't _really_ want me, _she thought viciously. _Just look at me, I'm a mess._

Her hair was, indeed, a mess; it had become disheveled as Hermione ran up to Gryffindor tower and was now sticking out every which way as if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket and left it there. Her eyes were red and bloodshot from crying, and she was pale, very pale.

In her mind's eye, she saw Viktor kissing a girl with beautiful blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a shining sheet of golden water. The girl did not have oversized front teeth (in her misery Hermione forgot that she didn't have them anymore, either), and her eyes when she opened them would be a clear sky blue, not plain brown like Hermione's. The girl in her vision was tall and slender, the picture of beauty and grace. Hermione was none of these things.

She ran her hands over her body, pressing the robes close to her so she could have a good look. Of course she wasn't thin like Lavender and Parvati, like Padma and Pansy Parkinson. She was tall, but she wasn't – and had never been, for that matter – slender and beautiful, like the girl she imagined.

_It's no wonder he chose her over me_, she thought miserably. No matter that the girl in Hermione's daydream probably didn't really exist. Truthfully Hermione had no way of knowing exactly what the real girl looked like that had been kissing Viktor, but she had already convinced herself that her vision had happened, and the girl was real to her.

She was angry. And she wanted to run.

Somewhere in her Hogwarts trunk there was a Muggle sweatsuit she had brought with her for those cold mornings studying in the common room. She dug it out and transfigured her school shoes into a pair of running shoes. It wasn't exactly an easy charm, but Hermione did it with ease. She wasn't the brightest witch in her year for nothing.

A brisk run around the grounds was just what she needed, she decided. Hermione tamped down the angry feelings in her stormy heart and willed herself to stop crying. Nothing could be accomplished by crying.

Ten minutes later she was headed out the front door of the castle. The air was crisp; it would be Halloween soon, and then the snows of winter wouldn't be too far behind. But for now it was pleasant to be outside, and perfect weather for a nice run.

And Hermione began to run. Her anger swelled up again inside her and she took it out on the ground beneath her feet.

_He cheated on me,_ she kept thinking over and over. She ran harder. _He cheated on me._ Her breath was coming faster. _He cheated on me_.

The adrenaline from her anger fueled her muscles; she wasn't aware of anything but the feel of her legs moving rhythmically, almost involuntarily, beneath her.

Left, right, left, right. _How could this happen?_ Left, right, left, right. _Why me?_ Left, right, left, right. _Breathe, Hermione, breathe. _Left, right, left, right.

She ran until her legs gave out and she collapsed in a heap by the side of the lake. She didn't hold back the tears now; they came fast and streamed down her cheeks as she let out an animalistic howl of despair. Her breath wouldn't come, her heart felt like it was going to explode.

"I hate him," she choked. "I fucking hate him."

"Don't hate him," a voice came from somewhere up in a nearby tree.

Hermione was so shocked, and her body was so taxed from her run and all the emotions coursing through her, that she actually passed out.

* * *

She woke up in the hospital wing forty-five minutes later. Harry and Ron were sitting in chairs next to the bed she was occupying. She began to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey happened to be passing by at just that moment and pushed her back onto the pillows.

"Rest, rest, my dear," she said sternly. Harry and Ron jumped up from their chairs and were immediately hovering over Hermione. "And will you two please give her some air?"

Harry stepped back a bit, but Ron didn't budge.

"Hermione," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Are you all right? Who did this to you? I'll kill whoever it was, I swear, just tell me a name," he added fiercely, looking murderous.

"I'm okay, Ron," Hermione replied quickly, propping up on her pillows so she was sitting halfway up, at least. "No one did anything to me, I promise," she said and patted his arm reassuringly. "I should be able to go, actually, all that happened was I had a bit of a fright and fainted, it was nothing."

"Nothing and you ended up in the hospital wing?" Harry said incredulously. "How did you get here, then? Who brought you?"

"How am I supposed to know, Harry? I wasn't exactly conscious at the time!" Hermione said, annoyed. Ron shot daggers at Harry with his eyes.

"Don't go getting her all overexerted," he said reprovingly. Harry glared back.

"I wasn't doing anything you weren't doing, Ron," he spat.

"Boys!" Hermione cut in, getting rather angry herself. "If there's one way to get me worked up, it's to have a stupid fight over getting me worked up!"

Both boys looked rather sheepish for a moment. Then Harry looked thoughtful again.

"How _did_ she get here?" he asked softly, as if Hermione wasn't sitting right before him. Before she could say anything, however, Harry was hurrying off towards Madam Pomfrey like a man on a mission.

"I wonder what his problem is," Ron muttered as he watched Harry run off. Then he turned his attention back to Hermione.

"I swear, I didn't know what to think when Dumbledore told us you were in the hospital wing," he said, and then suddenly he was wrapping his arms around Hermione and hugging her tightly.

"Ron – can't – breathe," she managed to say, and Ron loosened his grip and pulled away abruptly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Just…worried."

"I know, it's usually Harry in hospital and _we're_ going to see _him_," she laughed, and Ron joined in.

Just then, Harry came rushing back over with the kind of look on his face he usually had when he got one of his crazy ideas. Hermione raised her eyebrow at him.

"I found out who brought you to Madam Pomfrey," he said quickly in a hushed tone. Hermione and Ron spoke at the same time.

"Well?"

"Who was it?"

"You'll never believe this, but Madam Pomfrey says it was _Draco Malfoy_."

A second or two of shocked silence followed. Ron recovered first.

"I knew it, I bloody knew it, that little shite did…did something to her –" he said through clenched teeth. His hands were balled into fists on the blanket next to Hermione.

"And then he felt bad and brought me to the hospital wing?" she cut him off sarcastically. "No, Ron, I told you before that I just had a bit of a scare, that's all –"

"And _I_ told _you_ before that if that was all that happened, you wouldn't have ended up in the hospital wing!"

"All right, if you're going to shout and argue, then you may as well get out of my ward!" Madam Pomfrey was saying angrily as she advanced toward them. "Miss Granger needs to _rest_, and she can't do that if you continue to rile her!"

Ron shot Hermione one last pointed look and Harry looked embarrassed. Hermione smiled as best she could at them before they left, then she turned her attention to the mediwitch.

"You can let me go now; I promise to rest in my dormitory for the rest of the day," she said sweetly. Madam Pomfrey's face changed instantly.

"I will let you go, Miss Granger," she said gently. "But you really need to take better care of yourself. Have you been eating properly?"

"Of course I have!" Hermione replied a bit too loudly. Madam Pomfrey looked taken aback for a moment, then she gave the young girl a knowing smile.

"Please be careful, my dear," was all she said before turning to walk back towards her office. Hermione stared after her.

What was that about?

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**A/N : I suppose you want your preview now. I think this one is a bit _less_ evil than the previous two...about which I got figuratively yelled at because I was tricking you into thinking Draco was going to kiss Hermione and such, lol. Come on, people. This isn't a fluff story, so there are no unicorns and rainbows here. I have a couple of other stories that _are_ fluff, but this one is not. In case you haven't noticed. Anyway, I'm rambling again.**

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xxx

"What's going on?"

All three boys whipped their heads around at the same time. So did more than a few onlookers who had followed them from the Hall. Hermione was standing at the foot of the main stairwell and she looked confused and angry.

"We – we were just having a little chat with Malfoy," Potter stammered. Apparently the sight of an angry Hermione made him nervous. _Can't say that I blame him_, Draco thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N : I would like to apologize for the filler-ish nature of last chapter. lol. I had no idea, but apparently it was a filler chapter. Someone :cough: Pharrah :cough: was kind enough to share that with me. Actually, though, it was necessary to show what Hermione was thinking and going through, and also to have Draco bring her to the hospital wing. It advanced their relationship and was sort of a flag of peace, if you will. ANYWAY. I just didn't get that many reviews for it, and was wondering if everyone hated it, lol.**

**Anyway, thanks thanks thanks to Jessica and Jack. Much help was needed with this chapter, and changes had to be made...I hope you read and approve! Coudn't have done it without you guys! Love!

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Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He'd done it again. Draco had gone all soft on the Mudblood. And even though it would help him eventually in his plan, he cursed himself for the weakness he'd exhibited.

He had been sitting in the big tree by the shore of the Black Lake, as he was prone to do on sunny afternoons, gazing out over the water and thinking about nothing in particular. Or trying to think of nothing in particular. His mind kept wandering back to Granger.

Suddenly he heard someone running, and he shifted his position on the tree branch to have a better look. _Speak of the devil_, he'd thought sardonically.

She was dressed in Muggle clothes, a jumper and some sweats, and her hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, streaming behind her as she ran. It was obvious she was running for sport, not because she was being chased or anything, and Draco thought of throwing a branch down at her feet to trip her.

Just when Draco was about to do exactly that, Granger dropped abruptly to her knees and fell forward onto the ground. _What is she doing? _he wondered as he watched her rock back and forth on her knees, hugging herself protectively. And then all at once he realized. She was crying.

He heard her cry of anguish and then her declaration of hate for that stupid oaf, Krum. Why was it always about him? Damn it, it wasn't as if he was all that great, anyway, from what Draco could remember. The other boy always seemed a bit dense, if you asked him.

Suddenly he was filled with something akin to pity for this poor girl who was weeping and crying out on the ground beneath him. He wanted to do something to make her stop crying, to make her stop hurting needlessly for that wanker. It hadn't even been the idiot's fault, anyway. He'd been set up. If she wanted to hate someone, it should be Lucius Malfoy.

"Don't hate him," he'd said before he could stop himself. Granger grabbed at her heart and gasped in fright, then she collapsed completely on the ground and didn't move again.

_Oh, hell. I hope she isn't dead._ _How am I supposed to get even with her if she's dead?_ Draco dropped down from the tree easily and knelt beside her. He turned her over and saw her chest rising and falling. _Fainted. Typical._

He sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

_I wonder if I should take her to the hospital wing,_ he mused. He noticed that the girl did look a bit peaked and her cheeks were colorless, despite the fact that she had been running. _Hospital wing,_ he decided at last.

He voted against levitating her there, simply because they had just begun learning that charm and Draco hadn't exactly mastered it yet. He silently kicked himself for not paying better attention in classes. He really didn't want to touch her.

But it couldn't be helped. There weren't really that many people on the grounds just now, anyway, so no one would see him if he were careful. Most people were lounging in their common rooms this time of day, so if he were mindful to avoid the main hallways, no one would have to know he helped her. Not that he might not reveal that bit of information to _her_ later. It might get her to trust him even more.

When he finally decided that he couldn't put it off any longer, he threaded his left arm under the crooks of her legs and slid his right arm under her shoulders. It felt…strange. Somehow, deep within him, he knew that despite what he'd been taught his whole life, Granger must be just an ordinary witch – other than her dirty blood and upbringing – but he still knew that cradling her in his arms was supposed to feel…wrong. It didn't. It felt almost pleasant.

He squashed the feeling like it was a nasty bug and stood to his feet, lifting Granger into a more secure hold in his arms. _Ugh._ She wasn't heavy, he noticed. Her head lolled against his shoulder and he tried to shudder. But instead of being repulsed, like he knew he should, he felt his heart skip a beat.

_Better get her to the hospital wing _now_, _he told himself firmly.

Madam Pomfrey was surprised to see him walking in carrying the unconscious Granger, but she asked no questions other than what had happened to her before shooing him away.

Draco had never been so relieved in his life as he left the hospital wing; he'd seen no one on his trek upstairs, and thankfully the mediwitch hadn't asked any uncomfortable questions. Perhaps he could come out of this unscathed, after all.

At dinner that evening in the Great Hall, Draco was feeling quite cheerful again. He had actually had a fight with Padma earlier about something or other, and he couldn't be more pleased. It meant that their relationship was about to end, and he could go running right to the Mudblood for comfort again.

Instead of the grin he felt like wearing, Draco adopted a somber look and picked at his broccoli. Inside, he was laughing. It seemed as if the very fates were on his side.

That is, until the Hall went dead silent as someone walked up the aisle to where he sat. Two someones, actually.

"All right, Malfoy, you bloody pompous git, prepare to have your bits hexed off."

"Calm down, Ron, let's give him a chance to defend himself," Potter said sarcastically as Draco looked up from his plate. _Bugger_, he thought. _Not here_.

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it," he replied smoothly before turning back to his half-eaten dinner.

"Guilty conscience, Malfoy?" Potter asked nastily. Draco turned to look at him, completely unimpressed.

"Whatever it is you're harping on about, Potter – amazing as it may seem – I don't care about," he drawled in a bored voice, turning back to his broccoli.

"Hermione is in the hospital wing," the Weasel said slowly, as if Draco were stupid. That incensed him.

"What in the hell does any of this have to do with me?" he spat after a second.

"We know you brought her there," Potter said softly, gripping his wand at his side. Draco felt the color draining from his face. He swallowed.

"How did you know that?" was all he could ask. His mouth felt very dry.

"Never mind how we know," Weasley growled. "Just answer us. What did you do to her?"

"Nothing, all right? I didn't do anything to her," Draco said angrily. Nearly everyone was looking at them now. _Great._

"But you brought her to the hospital wing?" Potter asked incredulously.

"She passed out, Potter. There wasn't anyone else around, so I took her to Madam Pomfrey. I'm not _completely _heartless, you know," he added with a sneer.

"You expect us to believe that you _helped_ Hermione Granger - the girl you can't stand and think is beneath you - simply because you felt _sorry_ for her?" Potter said slowly. Every visible inch of Weasley's skin was red, and he looked as if he were ready to curse Draco into oblivion.

"I didn't say it was something I'm proud of, Potter," Draco snarled. And he wasn't. He was wishing he'd just left her out there to freeze now.

"If I find out that you're responsible in any way – "

"Stow it, Weasel, you won't," Draco cut across him as he shoved the bench out from behind him and stood up angrily. He grabbed his bag and made for the door, sure that if he stayed for a minute longer he would hex one or both of the idiots and then he'd _never_ have his revenge.

"We're not done with you, Malfoy," Potter called as Draco was walking out the door. They caught up with him in the entrance hall and Weasley grabbed Draco's arm. Draco snatched it away.

"_Never_ lay hands on me again," he warned in a quiet voice.

"We're not done with you," the Weasel echoed Potter's words from before. "We want to know what happened to Hermione."

"I already told you," Draco growled. "She fainted; I took her to the hospital wing. End of story."

"What's going on?"

All three boys whipped their heads around at the same time. So did more than a few onlookers who had followed them from the Hall. Hermione was standing at the foot of the main stairwell and she looked confused and angry.

"We – we were just having a little chat with Malfoy," Potter stammered. Apparently the sight of an angry Hermione made him nervous. _Can't say that I blame him_, Draco thought.

"Which means they were basically accusing me of sending you to the hospital wing," he said aloud. Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"Boys!" she snapped at Potter and Weasley. "I've already _told_you that nothing happened! He didn't hurt me, for goodness sakes! Why would Malfoy do anything to hurt me?" she added more softly, as if the words surprised even her.

Draco was elated. He didn't bother to hide his surprise as he exchanged a glance with Granger. He could hardly believe his luck.

He cast a superior look at the two other boys, who looked incredulous and almost angry.

"Now, if you two will excuse me," he said loftily as he breezed past them. He walked right up to Granger with half the school watching and placed a hand on her shoulder. _Might as well use this to my advantage_, he mentally shrugged. "Are you feeling all right, Hermione?" he asked her gently.

She nodded and graced him with a small smile. Then she turned and glared at Potter and Weasley. _She'll never believe them if they tell her what I said in the Great Hall_, he inwardly smirked.

Several things happened all at once then. Someone, a girl, gave a loud screech from the door of the Great Hall; Weasley made a break for Draco, with Potter desperately trying to hold him back; and Professor Umbridge herself appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Hem, hem," she coughed. Everyone stopped what they were doing when they heard the familiar, annoying sound and looked at her.

"There will be no public displays of affection in the hallways," she said sweetly, and with a wave of her wand, Draco and Hermione were blasted away from each other. Hermione was pushed backwards with a bit greater force than he, but his back still hit the wall with a dull thud. Hermione regained herself and seemed to be using all her energy not to say something to Umbridge, who now laid her eyes on the Potter and Weasley, who were frozen in mid-struggle.

"Fighting, Mr. Potter? Tsk, tsk, tsk; I suppose another night of detention for you, then?" Then she swept past them all and into the Great Hall, students parting on either side of her like the Red Sea.

In the aftermath, Draco felt someone grabbing him by the arm and dragging him up the stairs. He would have known what was coming next even without looking to see who it was.

Padma dragged him into the nearest empty classroom and rounded on him.

"I suppose you think this is some sort of game, then?" she snapped. Draco decided that silence was his best option at present, and said nothing.

"You have nothing to say to defend yourself? I heard about what you did for Granger, or to Granger or – just – whatever. I don't care. We're over anyway. I wonder if you ever really liked me," she added softly, as if to herself. Draco felt a pang in his gut.

_Damn it all._Emotions were really overrated. He was feeling sorry for Padma. She wasn't a bad girl, after all. In other circumstances, he might have actually liked her. But right now, he needed to keep a cool head.

"Padma, I swear, nothing happened," he defended weakly. She studied his eyes for a moment.

"All of this – you and me – it was just to get to her, wasn't it?"

_Wait. What?_

"Forget it," she said next. Then she straightened her robes and the next minute she looked up at him and flashed him a dazzling smile. "I suppose I should date one of your best mates now, shouldn't I?"

Draco laughed. Padma was all right. He grinned at her.

"If you can stand dating a _Slytherin,_" he replied snidely, crinkling up his nose for effect.

"Well, they can't all be as dreamy and charming as you," she said honestly. Then, never breaking eye contact, she stepped forward until they were very close and placed her hands on his shoulders. Draco tugged one corner of his mouth into a half-smile and leaned down just as she stood on tiptoe. Their lips brushed for a brief moment.

"See you, Draco," she whispered against his lips. Then she turned and was out the door before he could speak.

_Well, that's over,_ thought Draco as he exited the classroom moments later. He glanced up and down the hall, then headed to the library before going back to his dormitory.

He arrived there and went directly to his table back in the stacks. Granger wasn't there, but he really didn't expect her to be. She was probably back in Gryffindor tower by now, being fussed over by all her stupid friends.

Draco reached in his pocket and pulled out the scroll with his plan written on it. He tapped it once with his wand and the magical seal broke and it rolled open slightly. Spreading it out, he looked over his objectives.

_1. Gain Granger's trust._

Well, that was done. It had been easier than he'd thought, too. He crossed it out with a flourish. He glanced down the rest of the list. Now that he had access to her personal circle, he could start work on the second item on his list.

_2. Get rid of Potter and the Weasel_

Draco smirked. He would enjoy this one most of all.

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**A/N 2 : So. They're broken up now. I hope you all are very happy. I don't think Padma makes another appearance in this story, at least not yet, and not outside of just mentioning her in passing. :) I think we can all agree that this chapter was NOT filler. Hope you found it action-y enough. :D**

**Okay. I'm going to leave you with my favorite line from next chapter, because both of my betas gasped and said "Harry!" when he said it. **

**xxx**

**"Well, we understand if you don't prefer our company anymore," Harry said sarcastically. Hermione wasn't sure which was worse, Ron's open anger and confusion over her friendship with Malfoy, or Harry's mask of calmness that only barely concealed his fury. "I suppose once you've hung out with a Slytherin, you just can't go back to your old friends," he added nastily.**

**Right. Harry was worse.**

**xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N : I am officially only one and a half chapters ahead of you now. Blarg. Well, anyway, I have some apologizing to do, so I'd better get right to it.**

**First off, I'm sorry that I didn't review reply to anyone like I usually do! My computer was being lame and wouldn't let me at first, and then I was being lame and was too lazy to go back and reply. Sorry guys! I've also been busy, if that counts for anything!**

**Secondly, I'm sorry that I only updated once last week. I hope that the writing bug will bite me again this week and I can get a few more chapters done and posted. Thanks for bearing with me! :) I've actually been _reading_ instead of writing lately (I know, how dare I?!). I'm all caught up in The Chronicles of Narnia just now. No, I'm not a traitor to HP, lol. I am actually allowed to read other books, you know. ;)**

**And now. Thanks to Jack (for overlooking the fact that I left in an awkward sentence or two on purpose ) and Jessica (for the French lesson!) and Pharrah...I really can't remember why I'm thanking Pharrah, except that she appears to be my muse... There's nothing better than an actual, live person telling you your story rocks and they can't wait for the next chapter. She could also probably beat me up, too, if she really wanted to, so there's a bit more incentive. **

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"Hermione."

"Ron."

"You can't be serious."

Hermione looked up at her friend. "About what?"

"Being friends with – that – little – ugh!" Ron sputtered, gesturing wildly with his hands as if he were choking some invisible person right in front of him. Hermione laughed.

"You mean Draco," she stated simply. Ron's face turned bright red as his anger mounted just a bit. She laughed again.

"I still can't believe you're on a first name basis with that git," Harry said calmly from his armchair by the fire, not even looking up from his Charms book.

Hermione said nothing, but returned to her own essay for Professor Flitwick.

Truthfully, she couldn't believe it herself. A few days ago she was of the same opinion as Harry and Ron. Now, she was defending Malfoy in front of the school and to her own best friends, calling him "Draco" and agreeing to meet him in the library to study.

Sometimes life just didn't make sense.

But she had to admit that he certainly seemed to have changed, and Hermione, forever a Gryffindor through and through, wanted to give him a second chance. Even Malfoy deserved that, after all.

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron didn't agree with her. They just couldn't understand, and Hermione couldn't explain it because _she_ didn't understand. Needless to say, they weren't happy with the situation and it was beginning to put a strain on their friendship.

"You know, I'm actually tired of studying tonight," Hermione lied as she closed her book. Harry shot her a shrewd glance, and Ron simply looked shocked.

"Seriously? At eight o'clock?"

"Seriously," she replied firmly. At least in her dormitory, she could draw the curtains and place a silencing charm on them so she would have some peace.

"Well, we understand if you don't prefer our company anymore," Harry said sarcastically. Hermione wasn't sure which was worse, Ron's open anger and confusion over her friendship with Malfoy, or Harry's mask of calmness that only barely concealed his fury. "I suppose once you've hung out with a Slytherin, you just can't go back to your old friends," he added nastily.

Right. Harry was worse.

She sighed and continued to pack up her things. Nothing was going to be solved if she stayed here with them, anyway. But in that moment she decided not to go to her dormitory after all.

"And _I_ suppose," she replied with false cheerfulness as she picked up her bag, "that – since you think I'd be much happier hanging out with a Slytherin – I'll just go find one and study with _him_ instead."

Ron's face drained of all color. Harry's hands clenched into fists and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"Well why don't you just go do that, you traitor?" he said in a quiet voice. Hermione felt as if the world had been turned inside out. Hot anger bubbled up from her stomach and she felt words gushing out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"_Me_, a traitor? Have you forgotten, Harry, that I've been on your side all along, right there with you, helping you with everything you've come up against? If it weren't for me, you'd probably be dead by now," she added viciously, ignoring Ron's gasps and scandalized look as what she was saying sunk in. Harry's eyes widened.

"Don't make me laugh, Hermione," he scoffed. "You _did_ help, I'll give you that," he said slowly. "But _you_ save _me_? Keep dreaming."

Ron gasped and turned his shocked face to look at Harry.

"Oh, stop acting like a first year, Ronald," Hermione snapped, annoyed. "And as for you," she added to Harry, "how _dare_ you talk to me that way? I can't believe you! Just because I'm friends with someone you don't like doesn't mean –"

"Stop right there, Hermione Granger," Harry cut her off as he stood to his feet. "Have you forgotten exactly who it _is_ that you're being friendly with? Have you forgotten all the years of absolute shite we've had to put up with from Malfoy? What about the fact that he _hated_ you until just a few weeks ago? Haven't you wondered why he's suddenly being so nice to you?"

Hermione faltered. She _had_ wondered. But – people _could_ change, couldn't they?

"M-maybe he's changed," she replied lamely. Then she jutted her chin out defiantly and stated in a much stronger voice, "Yes. Maybe all he needs is one chance, and I think I should give him that chance."

Harry didn't say anything. Ron still sat there in shocked silence, his mouth slightly agape. Hermione took the momentary silence as her cue to leave, and she exited the portrait hole with tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

She'd had a fight with Harry. She'd snapped at Ron. Who _was_ she these days? She was always so angry, and now she was fighting with her best friends. She felt a few tears slip down her cheek, and walked faster.

Her feet automatically carried her to the library, and as it was still quite early, it was still open. She went inside and nearly ran right into Malfoy, who appeared to be just leaving.

"Hey, Granger," he said, surprise evident on his handsome face. Then he noticed her tears and his expression changed. "Hermione? Are you all right?"

Hermione wiped at the offensive tears viciously and nodded. "Of course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be all right?" she said curtly as she brushed past him and into the library. Malfoy followed her.

"Well you certainly _look_ all right," he said, echoing her words from the night she comforted him in the hallway. She managed a weak smile.

"Had a fight with Harry," she said simply.

"Really?" Malfoy asked, looking slightly shocked. He followed her into the stacks and to her table.

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Well, what?" she asked, pulling her books out of her bag and spreading them out on the table.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Not really," she answered, sitting down.

Malfoy snorted. Hermione looked up at him quickly. "The great Hermione Granger doesn't want to talk," he explained. "It's rather odd, don't you think?"

Hermione laughed. "I guess it is."

Malfoy pulled out a chair and sat down with her, placing his bag on the desk and resting his forearms on it. He leaned forward.

"So what was this fight about?" he pressed. Hermione glared at him.

"Funnily enough, it was about _you_."

"Me."

"You."

"Well, I can understand if they're jealous of my dashing good looks and incredible charm, but is it really cause for a fight?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then she laughed.

"Don't forget your modesty," she added soberly after a moment. Draco laughed. _That's funny. When did I start thinking of him as Draco?_

"So Potter and Weasley don't like you being friends with me," he said after he stopped laughing. Hermione started.

"When did you get to be so perceptive?" she asked after she recovered. Draco shrugged.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out," he replied. Then he leaned forward even more and added in a softer voice, "And just so you know, I've always been quite astute; you were just too busy with your blind hatred to notice."

Hermione blushed. He was right, though. She'd never really taken time to notice anything about Draco Malfoy except that he was full of himself and extremely rude to her and her friends. Then she thought of something.

"What about you? You never seemed to be lacking with the blind hatred," she replied, leaning forward and matching his tone and demeanor.

Draco put a hand over his heart.

"You wound me," he said sorrowfully. "And you're right. But things are different now – aren't they?" he asked, looking up at the last and searching her eyes. Hermione smiled.

"I hope so."

"Want to know something funny?" Draco said after a few seconds, his entire attitude suddenly changing from sober to upbeat.

"What?" Hermione asked, opening her Charms textbook and unrolling her half-finished essay.

"Padma's going out with Blaise Zabini."

Hermione looked up. Draco was smiling, as if it were a particularly funny joke he'd just told her, but Hermione saw that his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, putting her hand on the table between them. Draco looked at her hand for a moment.

"I guess so," he said quietly, still not looking up. "It's – weird. I see them together everywhere. She seems so happy…" he trailed off at the end, and Hermione felt her heart wrench at the look on his face.

"What about you?"

Draco looked up and met her eyes sadly. He shrugged.

"I suppose I'm as good as can be expected," he replied with a half-hearted smile. "I'm sitting in the library with a pretty girl, aren't I?"

Hermione felt herself blush. "Well, that's debatable," she muttered, returning to her Charms essay. Draco didn't respond for a moment, and feeling uneasy at his silence, Hermione looked up to see him staring at her with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

"What?"

"It's just that you have no idea, do you?" he replied smugly.

"No idea of what?"

"That you're attractive."

Hermione's mouth suddenly felt very dry. Here she sat with Draco Malfoy, who was sitting across from her, his arms crossed and leaning back in his chair easily, calmly and matter-of-factly telling her she wasn't repulsive. That she was _attractive._

Must be a really strange, _really_ strange dream; that, or she had somehow slipped into an alternate universe. Either way, Hermione couldn't breathe, and she didn't know why. Draco was still staring at her. _Oh, right, it's my turn to say something_.

"Erm." She actually couldn't say anything else. She was doing good not to have just grunted at him in reply.

Draco stared at her for a second, then he actually had the nerve to laugh at her, leaning back in his chair and covering his eyes with one hand. Suddenly she was angrier than she'd been in a while; he was laughing at _her _– of course he'd been making fun of her!

"I suppose it's all very funny," she said darkly, beginning to gather up her things once more. Draco stopped laughing suddenly and reached out a hand to stop her. Hermione froze and looked at where his hand was touching her arm, then back up into his eyes. Unflinching. Unrepentant eyes.

"Wait," he said, although he needn't have said it at all. Hermione wasn't going anywhere. She didn't think she could move if she tried, not under that unwavering, intense gaze of his.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wasn't laughing at you; well, okay, so maybe I was, but only because you honestly think you aren't attractive," he added, never taking his eyes off hers.

"You can't be serious," she whispered. _Why am I whispering?_ But she dropped her bag anyway; or perhaps her hand no longer had the strength to hold it up anymore, she couldn't have told.

Draco smiled. Again, it was that genuine smile that he didn't just hand out to anyone, the one that had her insides melting into some sort of goo, and had her wondering why she had never noticed before that he had a dimple in his left cheek. _Draco Malfoy, with a dimple. There's something wrong with that._

"I _am _serious. Don't you remember last year at the Yule Ball? You had all the boys practically falling at your feet," he smiled. Immediately Hermione's mind took a trip back in time to the Ball, where she and Viktor had danced…Viktor. Draco seemed to realize, too late, that he had inadvertently brought the other boy up and looked alarmed for a second, until Hermione pushed the sad and angry thoughts aside and smiled back.

"You have no idea the work that went into getting me ready for that dance," she replied airily, sticking her nose into the air. "And it's not like I'm that pretty all the time," she added with a sheepish smile.

"Who says?" Draco asked seriously.

"W-well no one, really, I just –"

"Don't let anyone - ever - make you feel like you aren't beautiful," he said firmly, almost angrily. Hermione stared at him, unable to say anything more, and just nodded slowly.

Then a strange and comfortable silence passed between them, during which Hermione worked on her Charms essay and Draco read his library book, and when the library finally closed for the night, he walked her to her dormitory.

They didn't say much more to each other until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione turned to look at Draco, and he turned at exactly the same moment so that they found themselves face to face and their bodies were nearly touching. Hermione blushed and made to step back, but Draco placed a hand on her upper arm, gently willing her not to move.

She gulped and stared up at him. Not really knowing what was going on. Not really caring. She could smell his cologne again. Inhaling, she half-closed her eyes and didn't see him leaning down until she felt him much to close to her face and her eyes fluttered open.

_Oh God, oh God, _was all she could think; his face was inches from hers, and he was staring at her intensely, studying her. His eyebrows furrowed together and he seemed to be memorizing every detail of her eyes and all she could do was to stare back, completely helpless.

Then the space between them was closing, he was leaning forward to kiss her, she wasn't shoving him away or slapping him, she was tilting her chin up to meet him, she must be dreaming – for things like this just didn't happen in her everyday life – now he was closing his eyes, _oh God, oh God_ –

"What in the _hell_ is going on here?" someone shouted. Hermione snapped out of the hormone-induced fog that had successfully clouded her brain and looked round.

Harry and Ron were standing at the portrait hole, wands drawn, looks of anger and something akin to horror on their torch-lit faces. Hermione took a step back from Draco, who hadn't taken his eyes off the portrait hole. When he noticed she was no longer standing near him, he swung his eyes back around to her, expression changing from anger to a soft sort of charm as he reached for her hand.

He caught it easily in his and brought the back of her hand to his lips as he bent low over it.

"À demain, mon chérie," he said softly, then he brought his lips to her hand, never breaking eye contact. Hermione would have been sure her heart had stopped, if it hadn't been hammering traitorously in her ears.

Draco gave her a wink before standing up and nodding curtly to Harry and Ron.

"'Night Potter, Weasel."

Then he disappeared into the shadows.

Ron and Harry continued to stand there, looking shell-shocked, until Hermione gently nudged them aside so she could escape through the portrait hole and into the common room. _If only they'll stay shocked for just a few more moments…_

"Hermione?" _Damn. No such luck._ She turned around slowly, preparing herself for the worst.

"Yes?"

"What – were you – please tell me that wasn't what it looked like," Ron finished weakly, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Harry looked simply too furious to speak. He was still clutching his wand.

"What did it look like?" she said before she could stop herself. Instantly, she regretted being so cheeky; Ron's face fell even more, if it were possible, and Harry seemed to find his voice, with which he began yelling.

"It looked like you were getting ready to _snog_ Draco fucking _Malfoy_, Hermione! What the _hell_ has gotten into you lately? I don't even know you anymore!"

Hermione winced more with every word that came out of his mouth. She didn't even try to defend herself this time. When Harry paused for breath, she looked up.

"I don't bloody care if you're friends with him, really, I think I could get past it; but _please_ don't get involved with him," Harry finished at last. His anger had diminished a bit and he looked a bit deflated. Ron had collapsed in a chair with his hands over his face.

Hermione cast around for something to say; anything that would make this whole situation disappear, anything that would make it better. There wasn't anything.

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered lamely. She knew it wasn't enough. She really felt as if she shouldn't have to apologize for something she didn't regret, except that it hurt and angered them so much.

She forced herself to turn her back on them, to climb the stairs to her dormitory, to ignore the funny looks of Parvati and Lavender as she climbed into bed fully clothed and drew the curtains around her.

* * *

**A/N 2 : By the way, Draco says "until tomorrow, my darling" when he's kissing Hermione's hand and telling her goodnight. Just so you know.**

**And I know that by general consensus, no one in this genre is especially fond of Ronald Weasley, but I personally don't mind him as long as he isn't whining and stays the hell away from Hermione. And just now I want to hug him. He's all vulnerable and cute and heartbroken and...awwww.**

**Oh. Preview!**

**xxx**

**"I shall try to be – ahem – civil to your friends," he replied with a charming smile. "As long as they aren't the reason you were so upset," he added, scowling as he remembered her tears. Hermione looked sheepish.**

**"Listen, I'm sorry you had to see that," she said, not quite meeting his eyes and trying to push him away again. Draco captured her chin with one hand and turned her face up to look at him.**

**"Don't apologize," he said firmly. She smiled a small little smile at him, and he knew then, that he had won. "It's whoever caused you to be that way who should be apologizing."**

**xxx**

**Wow. That's a long preview. Hope you can forgive me! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N : Yay! Twice in one week, aren't you proud? I know you are.**

**Okay. New contest. Whoever can PM me the best new summary for this story gets the next chapter emailed to them. That's PM, NOT review. So reviews don't count. You can also PM me to tell me that the current summary is just fine, thank you very much. Whatever you like. I just don't know if the summary right now is good enough, lol.**

**All right! Thank you to Jessica, Jack, and Pharrah! I love you girls!**

* * *

_Damn._

_You almost kissed her, you sodding idiotic dope! Again! What the hell possessed you to do something like that? Have you forgotten who she is, what your plan is?_

_No,_ he replied to himself firmly. _And this will work with my plan._

_How, exactly? _the voice inside his head asked him.

_It will help me gain her trust, to be so close to her._

_Will you be able to control yourself?_

_Yes._

While he wasn't sure he quite believed himself, he was satisfied, and had finally reached the blank stretch of stone wall in the dungeons that concealed the Slytherin common room. He gave the password and entered into the deserted room.

The large windows looked as though someone had thrown great buckets of ink upon them. The Black Lake at night was foreboding at best, but to Draco it was a kindred spirit; his soul felt as black as the cold dark water, and his mood matched.

He seated himself before the dying fire.

What disturbed him the most was the fact that it wasn't always necessary to lie to Granger when he was with her. In the library with her tonight, for example. He hadn't been lying when he'd said she was attractive. As much as it surprised him, he had actually begun to notice the small changes about her that all worked together to make her more palatable to the eyes.

Her teeth were no longer oversized; somehow last year after he'd accidentally hit her with the _densuago_ spell, she'd arranged for Madam Pomfrey to shrink them even further than their natural size. It suited her, actually, and made her face more feminine and her smiles brighter.

She still had the same crazy hair, but lately Draco had noticed that instead of being just one big frizz ball as of old, Granger had managed to tame it somewhat. Even though it couldn't be said that her hair fell in smooth curls around her face, it was slightly less bushy now, and one could actually see her eyes and appreciate the deep brown they were when they flashed and sparkled. Even Draco wasn't immune to _that_.

Surely she had noticed that her body had changed, as well. She had grown taller over the summer, and even though the Hogwarts robes left pretty much everything to the imagination, anyone could tell that underneath those yards and yards of fabric there would be the soft curves and lean legs of a woman. Her face had lost the chubby look of a child and the milky white neck rising out of the aforementioned robes was enough to capture the attention of many a young boy during Potions class.

She knew these things, didn't she? Obviously not. It was enough to make him laugh.

Draco knew he was handsome. He had known this from a very young age, and it never once occurred to him to question it. Naturally, he expected everyone else around him to be similarly aware of their own beauty or lack thereof.

The fact that Granger was attractive – but that she failed to realize it – struck him as quite funny. So he'd laughed.

Then the little nit had gone and gotten angry with him for laughing at her. He needed to save the moment and keep her there with him; his plan wouldn't work properly if she were angry with him. It would just be a setback. So he gave her some sound advice.

_Never let anyone – ever – make you feel like you aren't beautiful._

He hadn't, of course, meant to say "beautiful;" actually he'd meant to say "attractive," but the other word had slipped out, surprising even him. It had done the trick, however, and she was putty in his hands again.

Then he'd walked her back to Gryffindor tower, like a true gentleman.

The real problem arose when he had turned to find her so close to him, breathing fast and gazing up at him with those wide brown eyes. The torches cast an otherworldly glow upon their faces, weaving a spell over them and causing Draco to notice for the first time the flecks of gold in the deep brown of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the deep black of her thick eyelashes as they fluttered closed…

_Ah, but that way of thought leads to madness,_ he scolded himself.

He'd never been so relieved to see Potter and Weasley in his life. He'd never been so annoyed, either, and that bothered him. Could he really control himself and his attraction to Granger?

* * *

The next day there was a tumult of activity in the common room when Draco ascended from his dormitory. Everyone was huddled around the notice board, talking and arguing excitedly.

"She can't have!"

"What about Quidditch, then?"

Draco, never one to seem overly eager or to appear to not know everything that was going on, opted to ignore them completely and sat comfortably in his favourite armchair by the fire.

"I suppose one of us will have to go to Umbridge," someone was saying to Draco's left. He glanced over. It was Montegue, the new Quidditch captain, lounging comfortably on the sofa.

Draco gave sort of a noncommittal shrug, still unwilling to let on he didn't know exactly what was going on.

"I figured you could do it, then," Montegue went on, not looking away from the fire.

"What exactly did you want me to say to her?" Draco asked nonchalantly, his curiosity

piqued.

"Ask her for permission to re-form the Quidditch team, of course," Montegue replied, turning his eyes at last to meet Draco's.

"Right." Inwardly, Draco sighed. _Damn_. He hated that woman. Well yes, she was Potter's enemy, and Draco always found it rather amusing when she gave the git extra detentions and such, but personally he really found her completely intolerable.

Besides, why in the world was the Quidditch team disbanded in the first place? He made a silent resolution to check the notice board once everyone else had cleared out.

He wasn't surprised at what he saw regarding the disbanding of all teams, clubs, and organizations. After all, his father had hinted of more Ministry involvement at Hogwarts to

Draco during the summer holidays – when he wasn't harping on about the Dark Lord, that is.

So first thing, before even heading down to breakfast, Draco heading to Umbridge's office. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," rang the sickly sweet voice from within. Draco suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as if he were standing just outside the lair of a giant, evil lizard, waiting sinisterly inside to devour anyone who dared oppose her.

Going inside, he found her seated behind her lace-covered desk, calmly sipping tea from a ridiculously sculptured tea cup with a fluffy kitten printed on the side.

"I've been expecting you, Mr. Malfoy," she said in her sugary voice. "Please sit down."

Draco sat, surveying her expectantly. She raised her eyebrows, then chuckled. The sound alone was enough to make his skin crawl.

"I assume you're here about the Slytherin Quidditch team," she added after another moment. Draco nodded. When he offered nothing more, Umbridge went on.

"Seeing as how I know your father personally – and he is _such_ a charming gentleman, by the way – I think you can be allowed to reform your little team without any further delay. This action was taken merely as a precautionary measure to keep less…_worthy_ organizations from running wild…you understand, Mr. Malfoy," she finished, setting down her teacup and folding her hands demurely.

"Thank you very much, Professor," Draco managed to say. He even flashed her one of his most charming smiles before standing and leaving the room, grateful for the fresh un-perfumed air of the hallway.

Sighing, he rested his back against the wall and inhaled deeply. Something was definitely off about that woman. He hadn't the time or the energy just now to ponder what exactly that was, however; he needed to get to the Hall and tell Montegue about the team.

* * *

That morning – that breakfast in the Great Hall – Draco decided, was one of the worst he'd ever experienced.

He spent half the time dealing with Montegue about the Quidditch team – and the bleeding idiot didn't even have the decency to _thank_ Draco for his pains – then the other half having to watch Padma Patil and Blaise Zabini and their public displays of affection across his uneaten breakfast. Padma had taken to sitting with Blaise at the Slytherin table as of late.

Ordinarily, it wouldn't have bothered Draco (past a mild nausea for having to witness such a sight); it wasn't as if he'd actually _cared_ for the blasted girl, anyway. But today it grated on his nerves because he couldn't play the brokenhearted fool for Granger because she _wasn't there _to see it.

Potter and Whiny-Ass Weasley were there, of course, happily and obliviously stuffing their faces as if they'd never eat again. _Ugh._ But Granger was conspicuously absent.

Finally, he'd had quite enough, thank you. He shoved his plate away angrily and stalked out of the Hall, only to run head-long into who else but Granger, who seemed to be waiting just outside the doors.

"What the – what are you doing, hanging about in the doorway?" he sputtered, trying desperately to regain his composure as she blinked up at him.

"N-nothing." She looked extremely pale this morning, and perhaps as though she hadn't slept well. "Sorry," she mumbled as she took a quick step back to distance herself from him. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked, lowering his voice.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, of course I'm fine; why is everyone always asking me if I'm all right? I swear, it's not like I'm some invalid who needs constant care!" she snapped, almost before he'd finished asking. Draco's eyes widened.

_What?_

"I'm sorry, I was just asking," he said calmly. "You just don't look well this morning," he added, running his eyes over her again. Suddenly she raised her eyebrows and her voice and jabbed a finger in his chest.

"How _dare_ you stand there and tell _me_ what I look like, Draco Malfoy? Who the bloody hell do you think you are, anyway? Last night you tell me I'm beautiful; today I look like shite, is that it? Is that what you tell all the little girls when you want them to fall helplessly into your lap? Well, I'm telling _you_ that you can take your brand of bollocks and go peddle it somewhere else, because I'm not now – or will I ever be – buying any of it!"

Then she turned tail and stormed away before Draco could even process what had just happened.

"What the _hell_?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair, completely in shock.

On the way to his dormitory to grab his schoolbag, however, he regained himself and was suddenly angrier than he'd been in a long time.

_Who does she think she is, anyway? Yelling at me like that? And now I'll have to start all over again. Damn her. She just doesn't know who she's messing with. _

But now he had fresh anger to fuel his revenge. He realized afresh that Hermione Granger deserved everything she was going to get, right down to the very last particle of misery he was going to wring from her. He wasn't going to feel one bit of remorse for what he was doing, either.

No. Draco was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He didn't have much opportunity to work on his plan for the next three weeks, however. The first Quidditch game of the season was now only three weeks away, and Montegue had them on the pitch three or four times a week, training hard. This year, he was determined Gryffindor would not come out victorious over Slytherin.

A week before the match, though, the fates turned in Draco's favor yet again.

He was walking down a lonely corridor on the third floor –his usual shortcut to the Great Hall from the library, where he'd been studying – when he heard an unusual sound.

He stopped short to listen, and soon recognized the sound as that of a girl crying in a classroom just ahead of him. Wrinkling up his nose in distaste, he was about to turn and walk the other way when the girl suddenly burst through the door, smoothing her robes and sniffing slightly.

It was Granger. Upon catching sight of him, she stood rooted to the spot, mouth slightly agape. Draco didn't know what to do. There was no doubt that she knew he'd heard her crying, and even if he hadn't, her eyes were bright and her nose was red and Draco wasn't an idiot.

She regained her wits before he did.

"Malfoy," she said curtly, and turned to walk in the opposite direction without a backwards glance. Draco decided that now was his chance, and ran after her. His hand on her arm stopped her, but she didn't turn.

"Hermione," Draco said softly. She didn't move. "I'm sorry for the other day."

A minute passed. Then another. Hermione sighed at last and turned to look him full in the face. There were fresh tears in her eyes now.

"I didn't – " she began, but the tears spilled over her cheeks and her hands flew to her face as if to hide this weakness from him. Draco reached out and pulled her into his arms before he could stop himself.

He couldn't have told you why he reached for her. He told himself it was because he knew she would respond like she did, but that was a lie he concocted later to protect himself. Really he'd just wanted to hold her. So he did.

She melted immediately into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder, silently crying, wetting his robes with her tears, her arms threaded under his and held onto him tightly. They stood like this for a time, Draco gently stroking her hair and whispering soft words against the top of her head. Soon she pulled away and wiped harshly at the tears lingering on her eyelashes.

"Sorry," she muttered, pushing him firmly away from her, but Draco held her still and she didn't succeed as she tried to step away. "Let me go," she said angrily.

"No," he replied simply. She pushed harder.

"I said, let me go!"

"I won't. If I let you go, you'll just run away, and I don't particularly fancy running after you just now, if you _don't_ mind."

"Damn it, Draco," she growled, relaxing at last in his grip and glaring at the wall to her left.

He chuckled.

"Language, love, language. What would McGonagall say?" he replied mildly.

"What do you want, anyway?" Her eyes flashed back to him, angry and sad and…something else.

"I want us to be friends again," he answered. Rolling her eyes, she pushed at him again, only causing him to tighten his arms around her.

"It doesn't work, us being friends," she mumbled. Draco laughed.

"So it isn't easy," he chuckled. "Who cares? So you fight with Scarface and Weasel a bit. So what? So people talk. Let them talk. Why can't we be friends, Hermione? And don't give me any excuses. If you can think of one good reason why we shouldn't be friends, then I'll let you go and never bother you again."

She closed her eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. A few seconds passed, and Draco could almost hear her trying to think of something that would stand up to his reasoning. Suddenly she opened her eyes.

"All right."

"All right, what?" he pressed.

"As long as you promise to be agreeable to Ron and Harry – and not insult them, _especially_ in front of me – and stop being such a prat to Gryffindors in general – and – "

Draco cut across her. "Slow down there," he said with a frown. "Soon you'll be having me standing up for Hufflepuffs in the halls and throwing the Quidditch match so Gryffindor can win," he finished sourly.

"Oh, all right," Hermione said, blushing. "Then just the part about being nicer to Harry and Ron. I mean, it's not like they haven't got enough on their minds just now – what with OWLs and all," she finished hastily, looking more than a little nervous as she did so. Draco wondered what she had meant by that. But he filed it away to think about later. Just now, he almost had her.

"I shall try to be – ahem – civil to your friends," he replied with a charming smile. "As long as they aren't the reason you were so upset," he added, scowling as he remembered her tears. Hermione looked sheepish.

"Listen, I'm sorry you had to see that," she said, not quite meeting his eyes and trying to push him away again. Draco captured her chin with one hand and turned her face up to look at him.

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. She smiled a small little smile at him, and he knew then, that he had won. "It's whoever caused you to be that way who should be apologizing."

She cast her eyes down and gave a sort of half shrug.

"If it _was_ them, and I find out, I'm sure I won't be able to keep that little promise I made earlier," he added darkly. Hermione's eyes flew up to meet his again, and she almost looked angry for a second. Then she laughed.

"Thanks," was all she said. Draco was taken aback for about half a second. Then he laughed, too.

"So. Friends?"

"Friends," Hermione nodded solemnly. Draco suddenly remembered that he still had his arms around her, and he released her, but she didn't step back. He tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled a half-smile. Then he turned sideways and offered her his arm.

"Shall we go down to dinner, then?" he asked. Hermione's smile faded as she looked at his arm.

"Erm, I – I'm not really hungry just now," she stammered, taking a step backwards. Then she managed a shaky smile and shook her head. "I was actually on my way to the library when I ran into you," she added, her smile more believable now.

Draco smiled and nodded. "Well, I'll see you around, Hermione," he said cheerfully, waving his hand to her and turning to go. She waved and scurried off in the other direction; she was gone before he could even blink twice.

_I wonder what that was all about_, he mused as he made his way down to the Great Hall. Their conversation had certainly given him a lot to think about over dinner.

* * *

**A/N 2 : Preview time, ladies and gentlemen (or possibly just ladies)! Boy, you guys are spoiled, you know that?**

**xxx**

**"Why are you doing it? Is it for _him_?" he ground out through clenched teeth. Hermione winced. "Aren't you good enough for him the way you are? Who does he think he is, anyway? He doesn't have enough; now he's got to have you, too?"**

**xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N : Sorry for the wait! First, I need to say that no one must have thought the summary needed changing, because I only got ONE suggestion. I'll give you guys a bit more time to voice your opinions, thought. :)**

**All right. Other than that, I have naught to say! Thanks to Jessica and Jack and Pharrah, as usual!**

* * *

Hermione entered the deserted common room at half past ten, tired and with a headache, longing for the quiet comfort of her warm, soft bed. When she looked up and saw the angry faces of Harry and Ron, however, she knew it just wasn't meant to be.

"Hermione," Harry said, his voice calm and even, but his eyes giving him away, flashing dangerously in the firelight. Sighing, Hermione set her bag down and leaned on the back of a nearby chair for support. _Don't I have enough to be getting on with at the moment without another argument?_

"We're worried about you," Ron said, even though the anger on his face spoke louder to Hermione than his words. Although, to be fair, she could see that her friends were, indeed, worried as well. Heaven only knew why. She didn't ask, though; she had a feeling she'd be finding out soon enough anyway. She was right.

"We thought you'd gotten this crazy thing with Malfoy out of your system," Harry said, apparently trying with all his might not to yell at her. Ron nodded vigorously in agreement.

"He's not – that is, he can't really be your friend, Hermione," he said, standing up and taking a few steps towards her. "There's something fishy about this whole thing, him suddenly wanting to be friends and trying to snog you and – "

That did it.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Ronald Weasley," she said darkly. She wasn't yelling, but suddenly the room was filled with an almost-tangible silence and Ron took a step backwards.

"What _I_ don't understand," Hermione went on, still in that dangerous, quiet voice, "is why it's so hard for everyone to believe that someone would be interested in me, as a friend or otherwise. Is it really that far-fetched?"

Harry's fists unclenched. Ron's face fell.

"It isn't you that's the problem," Harry said from his chair. Hermione glanced at him. He wasn't looking very angry anymore, but his eyebrows were furrowed together and he honestly looked worried. "It's him we don't trust."

Hermione sighed.

"I know," was all she said. Ron looked uncomfortable. Harry waited for her to say something else, and when she didn't go on, he stood to his feet and began to talk.

"We know you, Hermione. We can even understand you wanting to go all noble on us and give him another chance. But the things we've been hearing…" he trailed off. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"And what – exactly – have you bee hearing, Harry?"

"You're just getting a bit too cozy with him, that's all," snapped Ron from the chair where he'd just sat down, arms crossed. He looked angry again, staring off into space as if he'd dearly like to murder something if only he had the chance.

"Oh ho ho!" Hermione said with a sardonic laugh. "So that's what this is about."

"People have been talking," Harry said, almost helplessly, arms hanging limp by his sides. This was obviously not going the way he had planned.

"Let them talk," Hermione snapped. "So here we are, then. It comes out at last. I suppose you boys would rather listen to a bunch of gossip than actually ask me about it face to face."

"We _are_ asking you face to face, Hermione; right now," Harry replied with a bit more force behind his voice now.

"All that has happened between Draco and me," she said slowly, "has been completely and totally innocent. He's been a perfect gentleman, and actually, he hasn't even tried to kiss me again since the other night, when _you two_ appeared out of nowhere and seemed ready to hex him into next year. And if he were to try again," Ron's head snapped up at this, "I'm not so sure I would stop him," she finished, relishing the looks of shock and horror that registered on their faces.

"Well then, if that's how it's going to be," Ron said suddenly, standing to his full height and looking rather impressive as the firelight behind him caused him to look much taller and perhaps a bit dangerous as well, "then I'm through."

"Through?" Hermione asked in a small voice. She wasn't sure if she should be angry or frightened, so she managed to be both at once.

Ron took the room in three long strides and stood over her, staring down into her upturned face. She was easily head and shoulders shorter than he was, and he looked even more menacing with his face shadowed like it was.

"It's him or me," he growled.

"What – what are you talking about?"

Ron laughed. Not a merry laugh, but a low, mirthless chuckle that caused Hermione to shiver, though the room was very warm. Harry stood stock-still by the fire, something akin to understanding and half-horror on his face.

"Him – or – me," Ron repeated slowly, dark eyes once more fixed on her face. Then he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips, a crushing, punishing kiss that almost knocked her over with the force of it. His hand went to her arm to steady her and the kiss softened slightly as her eyes drifted shut for a moment, before he pulled away abruptly and left; left her standing there, holding on to the chair behind her for support, her lips bruised and tingling, her mind foggy and confused.

When she looked around, he was gone, and Harry was smiling in a sad way from his spot by the fireplace.

"What – the _hell_ – was that about?" she asked shakily, dropping into the chair at last and trying to make sense of this whole nonsensical mess. Harry laughed humorlessly.

"For someone who's so smart, you sure are acting stupid."

Hermione bristled at that. "What do you mean, stupid? I've not done anything! I come in here and suddenly you two ambush me with some sort of…intervention or something, and then Ron _kisses_ me! And I'm acting stupid? What's going on?"

"You honestly don't know." It wasn't a question. Harry shook his head and muttered something like, "brightest witch of our age..."

"Ron's in _love_ with you, Hermione," he said slowly. Hermione blinked. "And you can't even see that?"

Hermione suddenly felt very small. All at once, the events of the past few months – and even, if she was honest, few _years – _fell into place and she understood. Of course he loved her. How could she be so blind? To be completely truthful, she had once hoped – but that was the past now.

Those feelings didn't even register on her emotional radar now. Somehow they had melted away over the past summer; with her happiness with Viktor and then her grief, the treasured things she had once felt for Ron were simply no longer there.

It was beyond tragic; it was hopeless. There was nothing for it. She _didn't_ love Ron.

"What am I going to do?" she asked to no one in particular.

"You don't love him, then," Harry said, causing her to jump in surprise. She'd honestly forgotten he was even with her in the room still.

Slowly, she shook her head.

"Well, there's nothing for it," he went on. "He'll be all right, I think…I almost think he knew this was going to happen, he just hoped – but it can't be helped. You can't feel what you can't feel," he finished, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a small squeeze. He smiled a sad sort of smile and patted her back once or twice before heading for the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Harry?"

He paused with his foot on the first stair and turned to look at her.

"How can we all still be friends now?" she asked in a shaky voice. He smiled a genuine smile now.

"We've been through Dementors, a bloodthirsty Basalisk, giant chess games, dragons, and now, Voldemort," he replied, ticking them off on his fingers. "I think we can make it through this, too."

With another encouraging smile, he bade her good night and disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione hoped beyond hope that he was right.

* * *

The next day was, simply put, horrible. Unbearable, almost.

Ron wouldn't look in her direction. Harry was playing middle man again, and he didn't like it much, so it was making him cross. Hermione was getting a bit tired of Ron's attitude as well. Not to mention everyone was on edge for the first Quidditch game that afternoon. It also didn't help that half of Slytherin house seemed to be hanging round them and trying to make things worse with their barely-veiled insults and jeers about the upcoming game.

It all hit the fan that afternoon right before the match. In later days, after it was over, Hermione learned that it was a combination of Ron's hurt feelings, his jealous nature, and his apprehension about his playing in the upcoming game that triggered it. Whatever it was, however, it didn't change the fact that it hurt Hermione almost more than words can express.

They were walking back from the Great Hall after lunch. Hermione had, as usual, put on a great show of eating, when in reality she'd barely taken a few bites here and there. Apparently, Ron had noticed.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" he asked as they began to make their way out the front doors.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Hermione replied airily. "Oh, look, Harry, it's perfect conditions, isn't it?" she went on, pointing towards the sky, which was smooth cloud cover all the way round, which meant that the sun wouldn't glare in their eyes as they played. She had heard them talk enough about it in recent years she knew this was a good thing.

Ron had stopped walking suddenly, and Harry and Hermione swung around to stare at him expectantly, and Hermione's heart began beating a bit more quickly.

"I think you know _exactly_ what I mean," he said darkly, and Hermione felt her face flush. Then she tilted her chin up defiantly.

"I don't think I can be expected to read your mind, Ron," she replied.

"Why are you doing it? Is it for _him_?" he ground out through clenched teeth. Hermione winced. "Aren't you good enough for him the way you are? Who does he think he is, anyway? He doesn't have enough; now he's got to have you, too?"

"Ron! What are you saying?"

"He's obviously got you brainwashed or something…the Hermione I know doesn't act like this! She'd never…well she wouldn't try and change herself to please some pureblooded prat!"

"Who says I'm trying to change for anybody in particular? Who says I'm trying to do anything at all?" she added in a much softer voice. She wasn't, really. She wasn't trying to change anything…or was she? It didn't matter just now. Ron was talking again. Or rather, yelling.

"He's not good enough for you, Hermione! You don't have to do this for him! He – he could never care about you like me…"

"Would _anyone_ be good enough?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not! But especially not him," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and staring expectantly at her, as if that was argument enough. She rolled her eyes.

"I'll be sure to ask you the next time I _care_ what you think about who I'm friends with," she said as she pushed past him roughly on his left side back up the stone steps, nearly knocking him over.

"Why don't you just go off and snog him then, and leave me the _hell_ alone?" Ron shouted after her retreating form. She paused. Then she slowly turned on the spot, ignoring the onlookers who had begun to crowd around them.

"Maybe I will," she said in a low voice.

"If you go to him, Hermione, you can be sure of one thing," he bit out through gritted teeth.

"Oh? What's that?"

"You can forget about having me as a friend."

"Do you ever think that just now, maybe I don't _want_ you for a friend? With the way you're acting, I'd be surprised if _anyone_ did!" Hermione shouted back, tears in her eyes.

"As long as I don't have to look at _you_, then I suppose I'll be all right!"

But Hermione didn't hear him. She had already turned and fled into the castle. She couldn't have told you where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stay there.

It was quiet and dark in the great entrance hall; it was empty by now, for most people were headed down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the game. She couldn't see properly because her tears had blurred her vision, and she slowed her steps as she came to the main stairway leading up to the higher floors.

She dropped onto the bottom step and wiped at the traitorous tears, willing herself to not care what Ron had said, that he hadn't really meant it and they would all be friends before sunset.

Oh, what she would give if she could re-live this past year! If only she hadn't befriended Viktor, hadn't started dating him in the first place, then she wouldn't have had the horrible heartbreak she'd had to suffer over the summer. She would have been shocked and sorry, just like everyone else, but it wouldn't have torn her up inside like it did.

If they'd never dated, then he would never had occasion to cheat on her – if what Malfoy was saying was true, which she still wasn't sure. But it all wouldn't matter if they'd never been together in the first place.

Then, possibly, she could have returned Ron's affections, and they could have actually been _happy_ together, instead of hating each other and fighting and vowing never to be friends again.

If only she could have a Time-Turner that could turn back a whole year! She would change everything! She would even go back and save Viktor, just to set everything right. Then she would be happy. Then she wouldn't be sitting here, crying her eyes out like a blubbering fool.

Suddenly she heard a footstep on the stone floor of the entrance hall and a voice startled her out of her reverie.

"Granger? Hermione, are you all right?"

"D-Draco," she stuttered, standing up on somewhat shaky legs. "You gave me a fright."

"You haven't answered my question," he said, looking concerned as he placed a hand on her arm to steady her.

"I'm fine, of course," she lied. Draco looked at her hard, and she could tell he didn't believe a bit of it. She dropped back onto the step in a heap. "Oh, all right. I've had another fight with Ron."

"As much as it pleases me to know that you've fought with the Weasel," he replied dryly as he seated himself beside her, and Hermione shot him a half-hearted glare, "dare I ask what the fight was about?"

"Oh, he just said – he said all sorts of horrible things…"

"And he made you cry?"

Hermione flushed. It was one thing for him to come upon her and catch her at it, but it was quite another to admit to him that something Ron said had caused her to cry. She nodded slowly.

"What did he say – exactly?" Draco asked after a moment. Hermione couldn't look at him, but she did see that his hand that was resting in his lap was clenched into a fist.

"He – he said that I was stupid for trying to change myself…he seemed to think I was doing something to impress _you_," here she paused, but Draco didn't say anything, so she continued, "and that – well, that he didn't want to be my f-friend anymore…" Here she broke down into fresh tears.

"That idiot," Draco muttered. Then he stood up abruptly. He held out his hand for her, but she just continued to stare at him, open-mouthed, not understanding.

"We've got a Quidditch match to go to," he explained. _Right. How could I forget?_

She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand. Then they walked down to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione still quite confused about their conversation and Draco's strange behavior.

* * *

**A/N 2 : Preview.**

**xxx**

**"_My_ son wouldn't lie to his father, nor would he associate himself with that _filth_," Lucius replied coldly. "Now, are you willingly going tell me what you've been doing, or shall I have to loosen your tongue for you?"**

**xxx**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N : Sorry for the wait, folks! Or should I say, the ten or so people who actually read this fic... :D Honestly, I'm just glad that you guys are enjoying it. **

* * *

In later years, Draco would remember that Quidditch match as one remembers a dream.

He remembered chants of "Weasley is Our King," cheers from the Gryffindor side as Potter caught the Snitch, his own feelings of anger because he hadn't managed to grab it first, and then landing in a fury near enough to hear that bitch Johnson saying that Gryffindor had won.

He remembered saying something snide to Potter, and he managed to get in a few insults about Weasley's mother and upbringing, just to relieve some of his earlier anger at the other boy for being such an idiot. Suddenly Potter and the two older Weasleys were rushing at him.

The fight that followed was one confusing mess of fists, blood, pain, and the adrenaline that rushed through every inch of Draco as he took out his frustrations on anybody he could reach. By the time Madam Hooch broke it up, Draco had a bloody nose and had been knocked off his feet, but he had managed to give one of the Weasley twins (who cared which) a busted lip; and he noticed with satisfaction that Potter's cheek was turning a nasty grey color where he'd hit him.

The next few minutes weren't very clear. Someone had grabbed Draco by the back of his robes and was pulling him away from the crowd, behind the nearest stand and out of sight. Then he was being flung to the ground roughly; the palms of his hands scraped against the dirt as he landed and his head almost hit the ground.

"May I ask what that was all about?" the man asked in a deceptively cool, calm voice, releasing Draco and walking ahead a few steps.

"Father," Draco acknowledged, spitting out the dirt that had gotten in his mouth and glaring up at the man. Lucius spun around and faced him, his face impassive.

"I wonder…should I forget that little – display – and relay to you the message I was sent to bring? Or should I give you a bit of a reprimand first?" Lucius said slowly, examining his wand as he turned it repeatedly over in his hands. Draco's mouth went a little dry, but he didn't reply, and he was careful not so show his father his apprehension.

He wasn't exactly afraid of his father, but he wasn't stupid, either. And just now, his father had the upper hand. Before Draco could even reach into his pocket for his wand, his father would have plenty of time to raise his own wand and curse him. So he wisely decided to play along with his father's game.

"Message, Father?" he asked, pretending to be interested. He pushed himself up to his knees and stood slowly, never once bringing his hand close to the pocket that held his wand.

"Yes, a message from our Lord."

_Hmph. Your Lord, not mine._

"He wonders what you think you're doing," Lucius mused, still turning his wand over in his hands and looking at it closely. Draco knew how to keep his face from betraying his surprise, and schooled his features to match his father's impassivity. He didn't answer.

Lucius began to pace slowly in a circle around Draco, never quite looking at him.

"It doesn't become you, Draco," he hissed as he walked behind him, "this sudden interest you've taken in the Mudblood."

_Ah, so that's what this is about._

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied. Then, suddenly he felt such pain as he'd never felt before, tearing him from the inside out, and he was sure all his blood vessels were about to explode. As quickly as it came, it was gone, and he found himself on the ground at his father's feet.

"An Unforgivable? On your own son?" he choked, his head reeling a bit from the remembered pain. His father had not, up until this point, ever laid hand on him or used magic on him as punishment, and he was actually more surprised than angry or anything else.

"_My_ son wouldn't lie to his father, nor would he associate himself with that _filth_," Lucius replied coldly. "Now, are you willingly going tell me what you've been doing, or willl I have to loosen your tongue for you?"

Draco considered his options. He could lie and risk receiving another _Crucio_ for his trouble. That certainly wasn't the best option.

He could tell the truth, but somehow that didn't seem the right option, either. He was sure his father wouldn't understand his need for revenge; that he would call him petty and childish and order him at once to stop.

So he decided, in that moment, to fashion a lie and temper it with a bit of truth.

"I am attempting to separate her from Potter, sir; to weaken him at his most vulnerable point," he said, almost without missing a beat. His father looked down at him, seemingly trying to discern if he was telling the truth. Draco swallowed.

After a moment, Lucius changed his expression and gazed off over Draco's head, looking thoughtful and muttering to himself.

"Hmm…yes, yes, that might do…" he was saying. Then he looked at Draco and smiled, almost genuinely.

"Stand up, my boy, stand up, and we shall talk about this scheme of yours," he said, in what apparently was supposed to be a warm tone, but still came out cold and unfeeling. The look in his eyes was wild and cruel and excited.

"Now," he said, as Draco stood and brushed his robes clean, "what have you done so far?"

"I've gained her trust," Draco replied truthfully, unsure of how he felt about discussing his plan with his father. Lucius nodded quickly and urged Draco to continue. "And she's fighting with them already; they think she's lost her mind," he went on.

"Excellent," Lucius murmured to himself, turning slightly away from Draco so he could no longer see his face. "He will be most pleased…yes…" Then he turned quickly back to Draco.

"You are to do nothing, _nothing_ without hearing from me, do you understand? I will owl you tonight with further instructions…you may finally be some use to me after all," he added nastily. Draco was feeling quite sick by now; he most certainly did _not_ want to be in the service of the Dark Lord, and now his father was surely going to run straight to him.

He considered, for half a moment, obliviating Lucius, but decided against it. It might not be so bad to have them think he was working for them, after all. Besides, they might actually be of some help in getting his revenge.

He watched his father round the corner of the stands; Lucius turned to look at him just before slipping into the crowd.

"Oh, and Draco," he called. "Your mother sends her love."

* * *

That night, Draco received the promised owl from his father. It read:

_Fire. Tonight. 11:00._

This wasn't very surprising; after all, his father had spoken to him in the fire of the common room before. Once, right before he had begun dating Padma Patil, his father had kept him from several classes one morning because of a lengthy discussion in the fire.

His father had been telling him then that he was charged with keeping a close eye on Potter while he was at school. Draco had been doing so, in a half-hearted sort of way, until he became so wrapped up in his own plan for revenge he'd quite forgotten he was supposed to be watching Potter.

He knew something strange was going on with Scarhead, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what. Perhaps Granger could enlighten him…but then, he didn't really want to be doing his father's bidding anymore, now did he?

But what else could he do? He wondered if it would be so horrible being a Death Eater. Wouldn't it be better than being found in so many pieces that his own mother wouldn't recognize him? After all, he was already practically an honorary Death Eater, wasn't he?

Ten o'clock. Draco sat in the common room, facing the fire and trying to ignore the whispers that were raging around him. People were still talking about his friendship with Granger; and while he had told a select few of his plan for revenge, lies travel faster than truth, and most of his house were now of the opinion he was nothing but a blood traitor.

He almost didn't care. Right now, he had bigger things to worry about.

Soon the common room began to empty, and people were drifting off to their dormitories in groups of two and three. Before long, it was 10:58 by Draco's wristwatch, and there was no one else in the room except for him. The fire had nearly died; the embers glowed brightly, casting his face into an eerie half-light.

Suddenly, his father's head appeared in the fire, and Draco once more thought how absurd his white head looked sitting amongst the ashes and embers.

"The Dark Lord has approved our plan," Lucius said loftily. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. _So now it's "our" plan, is it?_

"Has he, now?"

"I'll have none of your cheek tonight, Draco," Lucius snapped, causing ashes to fly up around him in his fury. "You are extremely fortunate. If you succeed in your attempt to break the bonds of friendship between Potter and the Mudblood, then you shall be richly rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. But, if you fail…" he trailed off, and Draco could only speculate about the number of pieces he'd be found in.

"Your next move will be to continue to separate her from her friends…draw her away, sweep her off her feet, make her fall in love with you. There is no greater power you can have over her than that. She will be in your grasp, then. Once you have accomplished that end, you will report back to me," Lucius finished. Draco stared at him for a moment.

Then he blinked, and his father was gone; only the dying embers remained, glaring up at him cruelly.

* * *

**A/N : Sorry, no preview this time! Want to know why? Because I haven't finished the next chapter. :GASP!: I'm sorry, but I've been busy, and this story just isn't holding my interest like it used to. If any of you guys have any suggestions as to what should happen next, I'd be happy to hear them. Until next time! :D**


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